


Dream of the Lost Summer

by The_JAM



Category: Hey Arnold!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Deconstruction, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-05-01 01:42:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 78,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14509734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_JAM/pseuds/The_JAM
Summary: .....and what......if it all......HAD been a dream?TJM DECONSTRUCTION!!!Read at your own risk!!!MAJOR SPOILERS!!!





	1. Intro

[…unWARP!!!]  
  
Good evening.  
  
The long-awaited Hey Arnold: The Jungle Movie finally answered the question of what happened to Arnold’s parents. However, when paying closer attention, many elements of the movie seemed a bit odd, or didn’t coincide with, or downright contradicted what had already been established as canon in the series. Whether this was accidentally done by the writers, or Craig Bartlett, or even if it was deliberately done by both or either of them, the points that did not agree with the series very much inspired this fanfic.  
Hence, this story is very much a deconstruction of HA:TJM, as it will deal with all those contradictory elements and reaffirm what we all have known—but perhaps forgot—from the series. This is an Alternate Universe story that takes place after HA:TJM, so there WILL be spoilers here, and plenty of them. As to whether the events of HA:TJM will be fully established as canon in what may be an upcoming sixth season, we’ll see when it happens.  
Now, some of you may complain that HA:TJM is fine like it is, and you might say that I am not allowing for enough suspension of disbelief, given the level of “fantasy” that was allowed in the series. And perhaps I’m not, but the reason I wrote this was precisely because the movie went beyond the level of suspension of disbelief that was established in the series. I’m glad that the movie wasn’t based on the episode “Sally’s Comet”, otherwise there WOULD be a lot more to complain about!!! (Comets are visible for several weeks, up to three months in some cases, and they’re not a one-night event.)  
I started working on this story the moment after I finished seeing HA:TJM back in November, and it has been a lot of fun to write, with all the research that had to be done, finding all the right references, but with the point of very much undoing everything that was established in the movie.  
  
So, if you truly loved Hey Arnold: The Jungle Movie and consider it fully canon, then this story is not for you. Close this tab/window or hit the backspace button while you still can!!!  
  
Oh? You decided to give this story a chance? Okay, just be warned that this will not be an Indiana-Jones-type adventure like what we saw in the movie; it will, sadly, be mostly talking heads, and will have many points of deep thought and introspection.  
  
Still, I hope you enjoy this fanfic.  
  


* * *

  
Spencer Klein  
  
Francesca Marie Smith  
  
Jamil Walker Smith  
  
Anndi McAfee  
  
analyse the

  
  
**DREAM OF THE LOST SUMMER**

  
  
with  
  
  
Dan Castellaneta  
  
and Tress MacNeille as Gertie  
  
  
Special appearance by Hugh Laurie  
  
  
Edited by Lord Malachite


	2. Prologue: A Rude Wakeup Call

     Arnold opened his eyes and found himself under the covers in his bed, which was in his bedroom, which was in the boarding house known as Sunset Arms, as it always had been.

     And it was from that moment where he realised something was wrong.

 

     Something was _terribly_ wrong.

 

     Something _so_ wrong, in fact, that he jumped out of bed and ran out of his room, still in his blue pyjamas, down the hall, past the bathroom—

     “Hey, Arnold, what’s the rush? You’re not late for school, are you?”

     He ignored his grandfather as he ran a desperate mental checklist: _Why can’t I remember the trip back? Why do I suddenly feel perfectly fine, and not have any bits of exhaustion at all? Why do I feel like I’m living the same day over and over again?_

 

     He dashed down the last flight of stairs that led to the dining room, and there he found, sitting at the table, three of the boarders: Ernie on his left, Oskar on his right, and Mister Hyunh at the far end.

     Almost subconsciously, Arnold mouthed along with what the boarders demanded from his grandfather, now standing behind him:

 

     “Hey, Gramps, what’s for breakfast???!!! I’m starvin’ here! Starvin’, do ya hear me?!” barked Ernie.

     “Imagine that!” scoffed Phil at his boarder. He then turned to his grandson and added, “It’s a living nightmare.”

     Oskar The Eternally Unemployed demanded, “Make me a sandwich, old man!”

     Adding to the fray, as if Phil was a fast food restaurant worker, Mister Hyunh topped everything off, “Crispy fries and a tofu burger for me, please, and step on it!”

 

     The boy, now with a painful lump in his throat and a hole in his chest, slowly turned toward the door that led to the kitchen—

     —and sure enough, there was his grandmother, dressed as an assembly line worker poster girl, complete with bandana, holding an “ON STRIKE” picket sign.

     “All power to the working stiffs!” she blared through a megaphone. She then jumped on the breakfast table and added, “All power to the proletariat! We demand a living wage!” Of course, being a grandmother, she couldn’t help but notice the blonde boy nearby. “Oh, hello dear…Arnold? Are you okay?”

     The blonde boy rushed to the kitchen, shoved the door open, and found it—

 

     —completely _empty_.

 

     Dejected, he let the door close.

     “Arnold? You’re not going to school today?”

 

     _School?_

 

     “Grandpa, what day is today?”

     “Why, today is your last day of school, Arnold. Why, were you thinking of playing hooky?”

     The boy didn’t reply, instead, he just stood there, doing nothing, and staring at nothing.

     “Are you okay, Arnold? Do you feel sick?” Despite her apparent senility, Gertie noticed that something definitely wasn’t right with her grandson, not with his countenance first being that of a terrible, devastating disappointment, then a nearly incapacitating sadness, while slowly followed by a deep, rising, unbelievable _rage_.

 

     _It had all been a dream._

     _And not just any dream, but it had been the PERFECT dream, with the PERFECT happy ending, with all the uncertainty and angst of the last six years finally over…a cruel dream that cruelly shoved him back into the harshness of the Real World and Real Life._

 

     The boy turned and stomped back upstairs.

     “Arnold?” asked Phil, but his grandson never bothered to stop, turn around, or much less reply.

 

     _Just my luck. Everything…had been nothing but a dream…or had it?_


	3. Chapter One: Relentless Real Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The REAL last day of 4th grade?

**ONE – RELENTLESS REAL LIFE**

 

 

     Fully dressed in his typical wardrobe of a tiny blue cap, an untucked red flannel shirt, green sweater, blue jeans, and white and red sneakers, Arnold carried his school bag to the front door. As was his habit, he opened the door of Sunset Arms and waited for all the stray dogs and cats, and his pet pig Abner, to rush outside.

     Just then, he did a double take, looking carefully at all the animals that ran off, several dogs, several cats, Abner, a bat…

 

     …and that was it.

 

     No monkeys, tropical birds, snakes, or pink butterflies.

 

     “Lose somethin’, buddy?”

     The blonde boy looked up and saw his African-American friend—his best friend—waiting for him at the base of the stoop, having just dodged the animal avalanche that usually happens every time someone opens the front door of Sunset Arms. The dark-skinned boy was also in his typical attire: a red “33” jersey, blue jeans, and red sneakers.

     Instead of answering his question, however, Arnold asked another question as he walked down to the sidewalk, “Gerald, what day is today?”

     His friend held out his right hand, prepared to give their trademark handshake, but was rather disconcerted when Arnold didn’t hold up his hand, and even more when he was asked for the current date. “Huh? Arnold, today’s June first, the best day of school, remember?”

     Something jostled in Arnold’s memory at that statement. “Best…‘best’ day? You mean ‘last’ day, right?”

     “Of course!” replied Gerald, still holding up his hand. “The best day is _always_ the last day! Now, what’s up with you?”

     The blonde boy looked at him, and looked at him, and then glanced down at his friend’s hand, which was still standing by to do their trademark greeting. Arnold raised his own right hand with some uncertainty, but before he could do the handshake, he brought his hand higher and rubbed his forehead. “Gerald, is today the last day of fifth grade?”

     “What? No, man, it’s the last day of _fourth_ grade! We’d first need to _start and finish_ fifth grade before we have the final d—”

     Gerald was suddenly interrupted by Arnold grabbing hold of the front of his jersey and pulling him forcibly to his face. “Damn it, Gerald, I’m not kidding around!!! What DAY is it???”

     Arnold’s lifelong best friend was quite shocked to be jostled around like that; never in his ten years had he seen the oblong-headed boy so angry with him, much less cuss like that. He held his hands and said, “Um…Arnold? You okay, man? Today is June first, the last day of FOURTH grade. Did you lose your memory or somethin’?”

     Perhaps it was the fright in his friend’s voice that made Arnold realise he was roughing him up, so he slowly released the jersey. “S-sorry, Gerald…I had a…rather rough morning. Or, actually…” The African-American adjusted his clothes, and the two children began walking to school, with Arnold on his friend’s right. “I…had the _stupidest_ dream EVER.”

     Gerald raised an eyebrow. “Really? What was it about?”

     The blonde boy took a deep breath, trying to remember anything, the dream, the trip back, the day before, even the _night_ before—

     “Gerald?”

     “Yes, my man?”

     “That’s the last time I watch with you _Indianapolis Jones_ , _Interception_ , and _Groundhog Night_ , back to back, before bed, while eating pizza.”

     “Hey, you said you were bored, and those movies were three-for-one last night, and—” The dark-skinned boy stopped, noticing that his friend had made that statement with an unusually angry tone, one he hadn’t seen since the karate fiasco. “Arnold, don’t tell me those movies gave you nightmares. I mean, sure there were a few gruesome parts on maybe two of them, but it’s not like you haven’t seen them before—”

     “No, Gerald, no, they didn’t give me nightmares. They gave me…” The boy stopped, making his friend stop next to him. With a sigh, he finished, “They gave me…the stupidest dream in the world.”

     “Seriously? But what was it about? And why are you so angry about it?”

     Arnold sighed again, “I…let me try to remember it. It’s coming back to me in bits and pieces, so I may need to write it down, given that it was so long, in fact, it almost seemed like it lasted all summer long.”

     “Man, it must have roughed you up quite a bit if it got you THIS angry. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this angry at somethin’, like…well…never. But trust me, this is the last day of FOURTH grade. If it had been the last day of FIFTH grade, we’d both know for sure because we’d _at_ _least_ remember one day of it: Trash Day—”

     “And us trashing all those fourth graders, who are currently _third_ graders…”

     “Yeah, you’d think that not even YOU would forget somethin’ like that!”

     “I…I know, sorry about roughing you up just now. I know I’m not normally like this, and believe me, I HATE feeling like this, but what I hate more is feeling confused because the dream was a bit realistic, too, I mean, I think I ate and slept within the dream, like in _Interception_ , and I thought it was happening for real. I’m gonna have to write it down to see just what parts of it were obviously a dream; it’s just that they made sense at the time, but now…”

     “Was I in it?”

     Arnold almost smiled at that question; Gerald’s ego couldn’t fail to show up, even in the direst of circumstances. “Actually, yes, you, and Phoebe, and my grandparents, the boarders, Mister Simmons, the whole school, even, Abner, and I think several of the people I helped this year, like Monkeyman, Dino Spumoni, and even—”

     Just then, the pair had walked up to a corner, and a sudden flash of a memory caused Arnold to suddenly stop and shove his left arm to the side to also make Gerald stop.

     “What?” asked the boy in the red jersey.

     As Arnold expected, from around the corner came Phoebe, and her best friend—

     “—Helga,” Arnold finished his list.

     The female pair also paused, looked at their counterparts, and the blonde girl scoffed, “Wow, Football Head, for the first time in your life you manage to avoid crashing into me as I go around a corner. Did you become a psychic or something?”

     Arnold looked at the girl, the same girl he had danced the tango with two months earlier, and who a few weeks before that had declared her undying love to him on the rooftop of Future Tech Industries, but later retracted her confession the following morning. He had been meaning to talk to her about that, and her unusual affection during the April Fools’ Day dance, but there hadn’t been time, and frankly, he had a much more pressing problem in his hands now. “More like _déjà-vu_ ,” he replied. “But you might say that I also decided to finally learn from experience. See you at school, Helga.” With that, the boy continued his usual commute, with his best friend at his left. Still, as they walked away, Arnold couldn’t help but feel that something was different about both Helga and Phoebe, but he couldn’t tell exactly what.

     Helga, meanwhile, was more than shocked. She expected her beloved to not only crash into her—the most common “affectionate” touch she had managed to steal from him ever since they met—and then say something apologetic, but she certainly never expected him to learn from experience—she didn’t dare say “mistakes”—and much less give her a curt answer before moving on as if they had never run into each other.

     Phoebe, after noticing that the two had been standing there for more than a minute, forced herself to stop staring at Gerald’s butt and turned to see what the matter was with her best friend. Noticing the look of shock on her face, she asked, “Helga? Are you okay?”

     Blinking, the blonde girl replied, “I’m…I’m okay, Phoebe, but there’s something wrong with Arnold. Something _terribly_ wrong—I’m not sure what—but I’m going to find out what it is.”

* * *

     By the time they boys arrived at P.S. 118, Arnold’s mood had taken a turn for the worse. He had managed to whip out a notebook where he began writing the dream, being careful as they walked along the last two blocks, but the more he wrote, the angrier he became as he realised just how much of the dream was precisely that: just a dream.

     So when the blonde boy entered the front door, he was downright _fuming_. He refused to return any greetings, or even speak with anyone, not even his best friend.

     Gerald noticed that, of course, but given what he saw during the karate fiasco, he didn’t dare bother Arnold, and opted to wait until lunch before he asked him anything.

     Finally, the two entered their classroom, where the rest of the class was waiting.

 

     And Arnold froze.

 

     There were all his friends and classmates: Sheena, Nadine, Rhonda, Sid, Stinky, Curly, Eugene, Harold, and moments later, Helga and Phoebe entered.

 

     _Something wasn’t right._

 

     Arnold hissed and rubbed his head, trying to figure out what it was that didn’t match what he had known before as “normal”, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

     “Now what?” asked Gerald, noticing his friend’s confusion. “You just remembered somethin’ again?”

 

     _Remembered?_

 

     He closed his eyes and thought back on the dream, on the last day of school in the dream, and—

     He opened them again.

 

     _Did everyone shrink?_

 

     He closed his eyes, and remembered what they all looked like in his dream…

 

     _…in the last day of FIFTH grade…_

 

     He opened them again.

 

     _Of course_ , he realised, _in one year, everyone would have grown an inch or two, not to mention that—_

 

     He blinked again.

 

     He took a fleeting glance at the girls, lest they think he was giving them a lewd stare, given the point on their persons where he was looking at.

 

     _Sheena, Nadine, Rhonda, Helga, Phoebe…_

 

     He turned away, almost blushing.

 

     He gave them another sweeping look, just to make sure he wasn’t imagining things.

 

     _Their chests were still flat._

 

     Today was INDEED the last day of fourth grade, not fifth grade.

     With almost trembling hands, he rubbed his eyes and temples, having received yet another harsh blow of Real Life and The Real World.

 

     Before Gerald could ask him what was wrong, Mister Simmons, also noticing Arnold’s apparent frustration, placed a comforting hand on the blonde’s right shoulder. “Arnold? Do you have a headache?”

     The voice of an adult seemed to bring the boy out of his funk, and he turned to his teacher, “Um…no, Mister Simmons, I…just had a rough morning.”

     “Okay then. I hope it’s nothing too serious, after all, today is a _special_ day because it’s the last day of the school year, and we will hand out your _special_ report cards and just have a _special_ day of fun!”

     He nodded, “Okay, sure.”

     As they walked to their desks, Gerald whispered, “You remembered somethin’ again?”

     Arnold whispered back, “Unfortunately, yes. Let’s just say I got another stupid confirmation that today really IS the last day of fourth grade.”

     “Man, you gotta tell me everythin’; I’m dyin’ to know what you dreamed!”

     As they sat down, the blonde boy replied, “Just…let me write everything down, okay? This is going to be a doozy…”

* * *

 

     The morning passed relatively uneventfully; Mister Simmons went through the motions of keeping his restless students in order, and they were more restless than normal given that they just wanted to get this day over with and go home and enjoy their summer. He gave out a few final lessons that had been pending until now, which the children reluctantly listened to, not that they would need to place them in long term memory since there were no more tests or quizzes to be had that day.

     The only student that wasn’t rowdy or restless was Arnold; he was much more focused on writing down his dream as more and more pieces of it appeared in his memory.

 

     And, the more he wrote, the angrier he became.

 

     What really got him angry, though, was the fact that Mister Simmons was giving his pre-set lesson plan.

 

     And that was _all_ that he was doing.

 

     There was no announcement of any contest of any kind.

 

     _None whatsoever._

 

     Arnold was almost tempted to raise his hand and ask him about it, but he didn’t want to risk looking like a fool in front of everyone else. Maybe if he waited until lunchtime…

     Still, he kept writing down what only happened in his dream and not at the actual—real—beginning of class, silently wishing for something, _anything_ , to happen that would even slightly resemble the announcement of a contest.

     And the more it didn’t happen, the more he seethed to himself.

 

     Of course, that didn’t stop Helga, from her seat directly behind him, to give him his usual pelting of spit wads.

 

     Her _usual_ pelting of spit wads…

     Her _relentless_ pelting of spit wads…

     Her _annoying_ pelting of spit wads…

     Her _aggravating_ pelting of spit wads…

     Her _exasperating_ pelting of spit wads…

     Her _maddening_ pelting of spit wads…

     Her _INFURIATING_ pelting of spit wads…

 

     Since she was behind him, she couldn’t see Arnold’s face get redder and redder with rage. So Helga was more than surprised when her beloved suddenly slammed his palms on his desk, and slowly stood up. Mechanically, she looked up at him, smirked, and brazenly asked, “What…?” She was pronouncing the “a” in “what” when she finally saw the look of rage on his face, and realised that something was not only terribly, terribly wrong, it was much worse than she suspected this morning.

 

     The next thing that Helga and the rest of the class knew, including their teacher, was that she had been slammed face down on her desk, and Arnold was now twisting both of her arms behind her back and pressing her right cheek on her desk in an impressive “Wrestle Mania” move that no one ever expected, much less from Arnold.

     The blonde girl’s heart raced with horror, almost oblivious to the pain in her arms as they were being bent unnaturally, very much fearing that her constant teasing had finally reached a breaking point on the boy she loved…

 

_…a point she feared that he would not return from…_

 

     As for the rest of the class, it was clear that Arnold Phillip Shortman, do-gooder and advisor to children and adults alike, had finally snapped under Helga’s constant annoyance. Even Curly was shocked at Arnold’s actions; not even _he_ would react with such violence, no matter how much provocation received.

 

     Deepening his voice, Arnold Phillip Shortman, _former_ do-gooder and advisor to children and adults alike, bent down toward Helga’s left ear, and spoke:

 

     “Helga, _dearie_ ,” he spat with venom, “right now, I’m going through a very, _very_ bad day, and I am having a very, _very_ hard time dealing with it to have _you_ add to it more than I can handle. So, I am _politely_ ,” he said with even more venom, “asking you, Helga Geraldine Pataki, to knock it off…to just…COOL IT…for one day…for _one, measly day_ , and just please, _please_ , leave me alone. And maybe, just maybe, tomorrow I’ll let you pelt me with double the amount of spit wads, but just please, _please_ , for today…” He shoved himself away from her, and she slowly straightened her pained arms and raised herself up again, looking with absolute terror at the boy she had loved for six years.

 

     _“…just leave me the hell alone…”_

 

     Almost snorting, he looked up at the rest of the class, who was also looking at him with absolute shock.

     He had no time to deal with them now.

     “And that goes for the rest of you, too!!!”

 

     Following that, he stomped his way toward the door, but he was stopped by yet another kind hand from his teacher, which rested on his left shoulder. “Arnold, I’m sorry for not seeing Helga do annoying things to you, it’s just that your head has a very _special_ shape and it’s hard to see things behind you, from where I’m standing. But rest assured that Helga—”

     The entire class gasped when the blonde boy slapped Mister Simmons’ hand off his shoulder. Arnold glared at him with such anger that the adult visibly paled. “Listen, _you useless f###t_ , no one in here buys that crap of yours that ‘we’re all so very _special’_ …” he mocked, “…not anymore. That got old a _long_ time ago, believe me.” He glanced at the other students, “Just ask anyone. Now, if you’ll excuse me, _Mister Simmons_ ,” he snarled with venom again, “I need to see the nurse, AND the principal. So don’t worry that _special_ head of yours, I’ll be back in a few _special_ minutes.”

 

     With that, Arnold Phillip Shortman, _former_ do-gooder and advisor to children and adults alike, stormed out of the classroom, not quite slamming the door, but not closing it quietly, either.

     Mister Simmons and the rest of the class just stared at the door, too shocked to do or say anything.

 

     Helga, meanwhile, stood next to her desk, rubbing her pained arms, and for the first time in her life, she was at a total loss for words, unable to wax poetic after seeing such a display of aggression, save for one lone pitiful thought:

 

     _Arnold, my love, what has happened to you?_


	4. Chapter Two: Interviewing Real Life

**TWO – INTERVIEWING REAL LIFE**

 

 

     Nurse Shelley ran her hands all over Arnold’s scalp, obviously ruining his already rowdy hairstyle. She wasn’t massaging him, of course, not with the bright light she was shining directly on his head; she was searching for any bruises or cuts that the boy had asked her to look for as soon as he arrived at her office. She also glanced at the mirror to check for any wincing or discomfort on his face, in case she brushed over an unseen bruise that would cause momentary pain.

     The boy, meanwhile, was patiently sitting on a chair, leaning forward slightly and lowering his head so she could easily reach the back.

     “Well, Arnold, you don’t have any obvious injury of any kind, not any physical one that I can see, at least.”

     The boy sighed, “Okay, I was wondering if I had hit my head somehow and I had some form of amnesia or something.”

     “You can get amnesia in other ways besides a blow to the head, but I don’t think you’ve been taking illegal drugs, have you?”

     “No, of course not, and I haven’t been around any shady characters who might have given me anything without me knowing.”

     She stood in front of him and re-did his hairstyle as best as she could, replacing his tiny blue cap afterward. “Well, Arnold, you don’t have any head injuries, and I’m certain there are no amnesia-inducing drugs in your body, but you’d have to take medical tests to make sure, and you’d have to see your doctor about that. Why do you think you’ve lost your memories, though?”

     He rubbed his head, finishing the re-combing. “More than lost memories, I think I got some false memories of a false time. I’ve just been a bit confused this morning, and things have been getting more and more confusing the more I think about them. Right now they all seem to have come from a dream, but I’m having a hard time remembering all of it, so I’m a bit unsure of what is real and what isn’t.”

     Shelley returned to her desk. “Well, Arnold, I can assure you that you are now in the real, waking world, and if you’re not sure, you can always pinch yourself and see that you’re not going to wake up and have this world disappear from your head. Just don’t hit yourself to make sure, okay?”

     Arnold stood. “Okay, thanks Nurse Shelley. I’m glad you helped me out in this.”

     “Anytime, Arnold.”

 

     The boy let himself out, walked out to the hallway, and went on his way, calmer now, somewhat relieved, yet still disappointed that he was indeed in the waking world—Real Life—and not in the dream he had last night.

     As he told Mister Simmons a few minutes earlier, he passed his classroom door and continued down the hallway, stopping at the principal’s office and knocking on the door.

     “You may enter,” declared Mister Wartz inside, and Arnold did so, shutting the door behind him.

     Looking up from the teacher’s roster in front of him on his desk, the adult eyed the young blonde boy as he sat down on the visitor’s chair. “Good afternoon, Arnold,” he was quite familiar with the child who had managed to help solve the teachers’ strike several months ago, and also convinced him to return to his administrative job after he unceremoniously resigned. “It’s rather odd seeing you here, and on the last day of school, too. Are you in some kind of trouble?”

     “No, Principal Wartz, I came here because I need a bit of information that Mister Simmons didn’t have.”

     He folded his hands in front of his chin. “Information? It’s not for a test, is it? You’ve taken all your tests, right?”

     “Yes, Principal Wartz, but it’s not information about any test or lesson we had this year.” Arnold sighed again and bit the bullet. “I’m wondering if there is a video presentation contest of any kind in this school, or…” he decided to go for a long shot, “…anywhere in the school district.”

     The bald adult looked at the student for a moment, slightly bewildered. Suddenly, he chuckled, replying, “A contest? A video contest _on the last day of school_ , Arnold? My boy, why would any student want to work on a school assignment on the last day of school, much less the final week? No, Arnold, any contest that is approved by the school district, and this office, would be presented to the students at least one month before the end of the school year.”

 

     _Shot down again._

 

     Arnold tried to keep his dejection from appearing on his face, but then again, he doubted that Principal Wartz would be able to sense _any_ emotion from _any_ kid in front of him. Still, he decided to take an even longer shot, “Well, has the school district had any contest this year that had a prize of an overseas trip for the winning class?”

     This time, the adult placed his hands on the desk and openly laughed, much to the boy’s surmounting disappointment. “Ha-ha-ha!!! An overseas trip? With THIS school budget? I can’t even afford a secretary, haven’t you noticed? Arnold, we barely finished this year without an outstanding debt that would have the superintendent breathing down my neck! Don’t you remember the teacher’s strike and all the budget cuts that caused it? It would be impossible for this school, or even the entire school district, to send one student, much less the whole class, the teacher, and the required chaperones on an overseas trip!”

     The child was grasping at straws now, hoping for _anything_ that would resemble what he dreamed. “But…what about any sponsors? Wouldn’t _they_ be the ones who pay for the trip, so that the school district wouldn’t have to pay for it all?”

     “Sponsors, you say?” The man held his chin with his right hand and thought for a moment. “Well, a sponsor _would_ be helpful, but it would have to be a really big one if we were to send one student and his family on an overseas trip.”

     “So…one sponsor wouldn’t be enough for the whole class?” The boy’s spirits fell lower and lower.

     Wartz again folded his hands in front of his chin and chuckled, “You’d need several large sponsors to send a whole class, Arnold.” Curious now, he added, “But, I wonder, why are you asking all this?”

     For a moment, Arnold froze, not expecting anyone to question his investigation, and there was no way he was going to spill the beans to anyone, much less to his school principal. “I…” he thought quickly, avoiding eye contact by glancing at a newspaper on the desk. “I saw a similar contest on a newspaper article a few days ago…I guess I was wondering how much work went into those type of contests.”

     “A contest with a prize of that magnitude is too expensive for just one school district to handle, Arnold. It would not only need several large and generous sponsors, it would also require quite a few fundraisers to carry out, especially for _this_ school district, _if_ we were to send one whole class of, say, twenty children, their teacher, and the chaperones.”

 

     That last term seemed to trigger another memory.

 

     _Mister Simmons went along, and Olga Pataki as a chaperone…and…and that was it?_

 

     “Um, Principal Wartz, for a class the size of mine, would one chaperone be enough?”

     The adult eyed the child with scrutiny for a moment, “Boy, are you joking? _By law_ , we’d need to send one chaperone for every three or four students!!! That’s why it would have to be a really big contest for the whole experience to be worthwhile, and it certainly wouldn’t be announced on the last day of school. For a contest of that magnitude, it would have to be announced _at least_ at the beginning of the last semester.”

     Arnold’s spirits seemed to crumble with every word that Wartz spoke, as his dream experience was being destroyed by logic little by little. Still, he had to continue, “And…well…what about destinations? The school board would have to approve them, right?”

     “Of course.”

     “Would they consider a Central American country to be a…good place to visit?”

     Wartz would have snorted in the boy’s face if he wasn’t a principal. “Central America? As in the one between North and South America? Arnold, I guess you haven’t yet reached Contemporary History in your Social Studies class, so I’ll give you a quick preview: Right now, Central America is too politically unstable for regular international tourism to rise once again to profitable levels. And even though the guerrilla war ended with the Contras and the Sandinistas, practically all the federal governments there are overflowing with corruption. So it’s not exactly a safe place for children, much less American children.”

     The boy sighed, as the apparent final nail on the coffin of his hope had finally been driven in. “I…I understand. Thank you, Principal Wartz, for the information.”

     “Glad to be of help, Arnold, have a nice day, and enjoy your summer.”

     With that, the blonde boy stood, stepped out of the office, and returned to the classroom.

 

     Which is to say, that the entire class froze again in silence when he opened the door, and they all saw him standing on the threshold, staring at them with a very, _very_ annoyed glare.

 

     _They were afraid of him, even Gerald, Harold, and Helga._

 

     The deafening silence was suddenly broken when the teacher asked, “Um…Arnold, are you okay?”

     The boy blinked, turning slightly toward the adult, and softened his visage. “Y…yes, Mister Simmons, I’m…I’m okay now. I already talked to the principal, and we worked everything out. And…I want to apologise for what I said earlier. That was…it was way out of line. I…shouldn’t have insulted you like that.”

     The adult sighed and smiled in relief. “Thank—thank you, Arnold, I accept your apology. Please, take your seat,” he added, not wanting to drag the matter further, much less now that it was the last half of the last day of school, though mostly because he didn’t want to risk having Arnold lose his temper again.

 

     _He, too, was still afraid._

 

 

     The day continued much the same way any normal final day of school would, with the handing out of their report cards and the last graded quizzes and tests returned to their students, going through the incorrect answers to make sure the students left with their lessons properly learned. The only odd thing about it was that Arnold continued to write down his dream as he remembered more and more of it, thankfully without any of Helga’s usual and annoying interruptions.

 

     _Because she, too, was very afraid of him now._

 

     Then the bell rang, announcing their final lunchtime.

 

     As the kids stood and headed for the cafeteria, only one of them stayed close to the oblong-headed boy. “Man, what happened to you earlier?” asked Gerald.

     Arnold sighed, “I think…everything just heaped up on me and it was too much. The dream, Helga’s spit wads, Mister Simmons’ condescending voice…and the fact that everything is still the same.” They stood in line to get their final school meal until September. “Talking to the school nurse and Principal Wartz helped out a bit, though. I mean, I shouldn’t take out my frustrations on everyone else.”

     “Not even Helga?”

     Arnold turned, and saw that behind him, giving him a _very_ wide berth, was the girl in question, waiting for the two boys ahead of her to leave the queue. In fact, no one else was behind the two boys, as all the other kids were also giving him a wide berth. He shook his head, “No, not even her.”

     “Wartz didn’t give you detention, did he?”

     “Actually, no, he was quite understanding. I did manage to find out a few more—”

 

     “And one serving of tofu for you, no fruits, no milk or milk products, allergy free.”

     “Thanks, Miss Lunch Lady!” replied Eugene.

 

     Ahead of them, the short boy received his final lunch of the school year, with a rather happy face, despite what happened in the classroom earlier.

     Arnold looked at Eugene, getting another flashback of his dream at the sound of the word “allergy”.

     “Now what?” asked Gerald, noticing his friend spacing out again.

     Arnold blinked, and got his lunch. “Remembered something again. This time it deals with Eugene.” They followed the sandal-clad boy to his table. “He was in the dream, too, but it was…it was almost as if he was a cartoon.”

     “Sorry, what? A cartoon? What cartoon?” asked Eugene, just as he sat down, turning to face the inseparable pair. “Oh, hi, Arnold. Um…how’s everything?” he asked nervously, still shook up from what he saw earlier.

     “Relax, Eugene, I’m not angry anymore. That wasn’t something I should have done or said. I just want to ask you a few questions.” Arnold and Gerald sat in front of the allergy-prone boy, the blonde boy on his right, and the African-American on his left. The blonde pulled out his notebook. “Eugene, just out of curiosity, how many fruits are you allergic to?”

     Relaxing now that he was in familiar territory, the shorter boy replied with a smile, “Wow, I’m not sure. Wanna see my list?” he asked, searching his right shorts pocket for the item. “The last time I counted I was up to twenty, or twenty-five, I think…”

     Ignoring that last comment, Arnold pressed on, “Eugene, if you ate any of those fruits—by accident, of course—would you always have the same allergic reaction for each of them?”

     The redhead stopped looking for his list, thought for a moment, and replied, “Well, no, that depends on the fruit, I guess. Even varieties of the same fruit can give me very different reactions. Sometimes I just break out in hives, sometimes I just itch really bad all over—”

     “Do you ever swell up?” asked Arnold, quite curtly, now remembering fully what had happened on the boat in his dream.

     Eugene shook his head. “Oh, yeah, those are the worst. If I’m not careful with what I eat, that reaction could get really serious. I mean, my throat could close up and I wouldn’t be able to breathe!”

     The blonde raised an eyebrow. “Is that what happens when you swell? You wouldn’t just inflate like a ball and be unable to move except by rolling around?”

     Now it was Eugene’s turn to eye Arnold with incredulity. “No, Arnold, I wouldn’t swell up like a ball. I’m not a cartoon character, haven’t you noticed?”

     The blonde boy paused for a moment as his spirits fell yet another notch into the abyss of despair. Still, he forced himself to continue, “No, of course you’re not a cartoon character. Now, do you have any allergies with tropical fruits in general?”

     “Tropical fruits? Well, I haven’t tried that many; normally I try to stay away from them, but I don’t have any problems with bananas. The generic ones, at least.”

     _So much for doing an experiment with_ pitayas, thought Arnold. Remembering a bit more of Eugene’s role in the dream, he now asked, “Eugene, if you had a _really_ bad allergic reaction, which included a really, _really_ bad swelling of…well…swelling everywhere, what would you need to do to recover?”

     Looking up for a moment, Eugene answered, now with an unusually serious tone, “If I had an allergic reaction with out-of-control swelling, I’d have to pull out the big guns, literally.” This time, he searched in his left shorts pocket, and pulled out a small black case. Handling it as if it were made of glass, he opened it and showed his friends its contents: an odd-looking syringe. “This is an EpiPen. It’s full of a powerful medication that I would inject on myself and it would help the swelling go down. There are only three of these in the whole school—that I know of: this one, another one with the school nurse, and Sheena has the other one, a ‘back-up’, shall we say,” he finished with a very, _very_ noticeable blush.

     Arnold and Gerald looked at each other, giving themselves a nod of understanding. The blonde pressed on, “So that would be it? You inject yourself with that, and you would suddenly be back to normal?”

     “Oh, no, that would be just the start. I’d have to contact my doctor right away, go to the hospital for observation, and maybe file a new allergy in case it was unexpected…but why are you asking me all this? You were never interested in my allergies before, Arnold.”

     For a moment, the blonde boy stared at the redhead, unsure what to answer. But just as he took a breath to reply, Gerald came to the rescue, “We saw a movie where a girl had an unusual allergic reaction. We weren’t sure if the way she swelled up was for real, or if it was just for a comedic effect.”

     Finally, Eugene laughed. “Please, guys, don’t believe everything you see in the movies. I mean, when my doctor first gave me this,” he gingerly closed the EpiPen case and put it back in his pocket, “I felt really, _really_ scared, knowing what would have to happen in order for me to use it. I haven’t needed to use it yet, though, but I’m ready, the nurse is ready, and Sheena is ready.”

     “Speaking of Sheena…” said Gerald. The three boys looked up and saw that the tall brunette in question was approaching their table.

     Arnold stood. “Right, Eugene, we’ll leave you and Sheena alone for now. Thanks for the info; it was really helpful.”

     With that, the two best friends left the more-than-obvious couple to their lunchtime antics. As they left for their own table, the African-American asked, “Seriously? You dreamed Eugene ate somethin’ and he swelled like a ball?”

     “It was almost funny, I mean, he was practically a beach ball and Sheena had to roll him around, and he couldn’t go in through any doors, he was so huge. But that’s another point of my dream that got disproved, unfortunately.”

     “So in your dream, no one thought of injectin’ Eugene with that medicine to make the swellin’ go down? That almost sounds kinda cruel, you know…Arnold? Arnold?”

     Now his best friend was staring at two girls from the class: Rhonda Wellington Lloyd and her best friend, Nadine. This time, however, Arnold wasn’t staring at their faces, much less their chests, but at the top of Rhonda’s head, for some reason.

     The two girls, meanwhile, were on their way to their table but stopped when they saw that the two boys were blocking their path. Since it was Arnold, the two froze momentarily, almost expecting another outburst from the blonde boy.

     After a long moment, the black-haired girl decided to bite the bullet and reaffirm her status as the Queen Bee of the fourth grade, “Hello, Gerald…Ar…Arnold, may we help you with anything?”

     Before Gerald could say anything, Arnold suddenly replied with a strange topic, “We’re just looking for information, Rhonda. And I’m wondering: when you go on vacation overseas, do you usually just go to Europe?”

     The tall girl eyed the former do-gooder for an instant, and replied with a tone of uncertainty and hesitation, “Um…well, now that you’re asking, yes, why, last year Daddy took us to…to France…to Paris, actually…” Finding herself in her element, Rhonda smiled as her response now flowed without any hindrance, and she let the words and memories flow unimpeded. “Marseille, Lyon, and even the Riviera! Oh, we had such a wonderful time—I really wish you had come with us, Nadine—we went shopping, to amazing restaurants, outdoor cafés, and beaches on both sides of the country! It was amazing. But…why do you ask, Arnold? Did you need any information about France or French tourism?”

     He seemingly ignored her last question and pressed on, “Have you gone to any other place besides Europe? Perhaps Canada, or anywhere else in America?”

     Her curiosity had been sparked, and was now rather intrigued as to why he wanted to know this. “Well, I’ve been to Toronto, Miami Beach, Hollywood, Las Vegas, Barcelona, um…let’s see where else…”

     “Anywhere in South America, or Central America, perhaps? Say, Rio de Janeiro, or…any place in the tropics?”

     “Well, Arnold, now that you mention it, I think Mom went to Rio sometime before I was born. She said it was a wonderful place, but the humidity did horrors to her hair.”

 

     _Yes, that’s what I thought._

“From then on, she vowed not to go anywhere with such high humidity, which, sadly, has eliminated Brazil, Thailand, Tahiti, the Caribbean, the whole Pacific, I think, except for Hawaii…wait, I think I went to Hawaii once. I had to use about ten cans of hair spray to keep my hair in place, and Hawaii is not as humid as the rest!”

     “So basically, you try to avoid tropical countries because it would be a big hassle on your hair…and your mother’s hair, I suppose.”

     “Oh, definitely, but it’s not like we’re missing out on much. There are plenty of other places to visit that won’t murder your hair,” she giggled.

     “So if someone invited you to spend a week or two in…oh, Central America, perhaps, you would turn them down?”

     “Central America?” she balked. “Please, Arnold. That place is so…poor and unstable. I’d rather go to Rio and have my hair murdered there than Central America have my hair murdered there BESIDES being stuck in a run-down hotel with no toilet paper.”

     “I…suppose you’re right. Well, thanks, Rhonda, for the information. It has been very helpful. But…also…” he suddenly remembered, “Do you have a cell phone?”

     She looked at him as if he had asked her if she was a girl. “Of course! I have the latest model right here?” She fished the device from her pocket, and Arnold saw…

 

     _It was a BLACK phone, very thick, with no screen except the number display at the front, not the ultra-thin white phone he saw in his dream._

 

     “What about it?” asked Rhonda, snapping him from his introspection.

     “Uh…I was just curious about what model it was. For a moment I thought it would be…thinner, or a different colour.”

     “Thinner? Different colour? Arnold, honey, you can bet that the day I can get this in pink or white, I’ll drop this brick and get those much more fashionable ones!!!”

     “Of course. Well, thanks, Rhonda.”

     “You’re welcome, Arnold,” she smiled genuinely. “But why do you need that information for? Are you planning on vacationing in the tropics?”

     He sighed. “No, I just…felt a bit confused this morning, and I’m trying to sort things out, and you really helped in sorting things out for me. Thanks again, Rhonda.”

     With that, the boy and his best friend left Rhonda and Nadine.

     The mulatto girl whispered to her rich friend, “I wonder if all that had something to do with his outburst earlier.”

     “I wouldn’t doubt it. But if his outburst is making him seek help, then as his friends, we should do what we can to help him out any way we can. Let’s sit down and eat and see how we can do that…”

     As the two girls went on their way, Gerald said, “So you also dreamed that Rhonda went on vacation to the super humid tropics?”

     “Yes, and she ended up looking almost like the Bride of Frankenstein…without the grey hairs, of course. She almost broke down, too, because of that, not to mention her cell phone was white, with a huge screen, and thinner than—”

     Gerald waited for him to finish, but he didn’t. “Ugh, now what?”

     The boy had frozen in mid-step again, and this time, he was staring at the short Asian-American girl who was currently sitting to the right of her best friend, Helga Pataki.

 

     _And she was checking her black flip-open cell phone._

 

     Gerald looked to where Arnold was staring at, and realising he was staring at the girl he had her eyes on, shoved him rather rudely. “Hey, quit glarin’ at Phoebe! What did SHE do in your dream?” he demanded.

     Stumbling a bit, he returned to his senses as he straightened out. “S-sorry, Gerald, but the strange thing is that Phoebe did something rather…extraordinary in my dream, and it had something to do with cell phones.” Before he walked to her table, he added, “And don’t worry, I’ll be civil with her, just like I’ve always been. You don’t have to worry about me stealing her from you.”

     “Darned right!” Suddenly realising what he had just said, Gerald sputtered, “Uh…I mean…‘steal’? Whatever…whatever do you mean by that…Arnold? I mean…it’s not as if…as if…” His failed excuses and explanations went nowhere, as Arnold had already reached Phoebe’s table.

     Before Helga could demand an explanation as to what he was doing there, despite her fear, Arnold ignored the blonde girl and spoke first, “Hi, Phoebe, mind if I sit here for a moment? I just want to ask you a few questions about…” He looked at the device she was holding, “…about cell phones, I guess.”

     The Asian-American girl looked up at him, still with hints of fear, but those dissipated once Gerald stood at Arnold’s right. “Um, okay, sure, Arnold, I’ll be glad to reply to whatever inquiries you may have.”

     Both boys sat, and the blonde one began, “First, sorry again for that outburst this morning. As I told Mister Simmons, I had a rather rude wake-up call, and it kinda wore down my patience. But don’t worry, I don’t have anything against you; I’m just…trying to make sense of today, I suppose.”

     Helga noticed that he didn’t say he didn’t have anything against _herself_ , but before she could ask him about that, Phoebe, apparently also ignoring her, encouraged her male friend to continue, “How are you going about that?”

     “Well, first, I’d like to know this.” He breathed deeply, and began, “Phoebe, how much do you know about modern electronics?”

     The short girl looked up in thought for a second, and answered, “Um…the basics, I suppose, though I could probably learn quickly if I set my mind on it and got the right books to study, but I _would_ need a few practical lessons to get all the important stuff committed to memory.”

     Arnold looked down at her cell phone, a rather thick one, perhaps as thick as a blackboard eraser. “Phoebe, if I gave you a cell phone, let’s say the latest model, would you be able to take it apart, figure out how it worked, and maybe rig it so it would be connected to other cell phones? Maybe even beepers?”

     Her answer was unfortunately too quick, “Oh, no, I seriously doubt that. I would need very specialised tools as well as an owners’ manual, not to mention a book or two about modern radio-telephone technology.”

     The blonde boy tapped his fingers on the table. “So…one screwdriver and one pair of pliers…wouldn’t be enough for you?”

     It was the turn of the black-haired girl to raise an eyebrow. “Are you serious, Arnold? Some phones don’t even have standard screws, and they can only be opened by authorised repairmen with VERY specialised equipment! Why, some don’t even have any visible screws at all, and the simple act of opening them is a trade secret!”

 

     _He remembered that she pried open Rhonda’s phone with a screwdriver, cracking the plastic case, not even bothering to find any screws…_

_…with a SCREWDRIVER…_

 

     “Phoebe, you wouldn’t happen to have a screwdriver on you, would you?”

     “Um, no, Arnold, I don’t. Why would I need one?”

     The blonde boy rubbed his head with his right hand for a moment, and replied, “Sorry, never mind that.” He then looked up again, at the inseparable friends in front of him…

 

     _…Phoebe, Helga, and Gerald were the ones who searched all those video tapes, looking for the right footage for the video project…_

_…all those tapes in that video vault…_

_…all those monitors…_

_…all those cameras…_

_…that editing console…_

_…underneath a beeper store that was on its last legs?_

 

     “Phoebe, would you consider yourself to be the smartest student in the class?”

     The girl blushed at the _non-sequitur_ , and her response faltered a bit, “Uh…y-yes, m-maybe…maybe I am…why?”

     “Hey, what are you doin’?” demanded the dark-skinned boy.

     Ignoring him, and ignoring Helga’s sudden jealous glare, Arnold continued, “I just need your expert opinion on a hypothetical question.” Helga’s jealousy morphed into intrigue. “How expensive would your average video surveillance room be? What equipment would you need besides lots and lots of cameras?” He glanced at Helga, who other than glaring at him, didn’t flinch or appear to panic in any way.

     Phoebe, having recovered from her sudden embarrassment, now felt fully at ease in her element of technical explanations, “Oh, specialised video cameras are just the tip of the iceberg, Arnold. You’d need quite a number of monitors, control panels, recording equipment, controlling computers if it was REALLY complex, not to mention all the specialised programming for them, camera controls, all the wiring needed for closed-circuit television, and if it was wireless, you’d need all the required short-range antennas, and all the electricity to power everything would require a 220-volt installation…”

     “Would the whole thing cost around…maybe 10,000 dollars?”

     She happily continued to flow in her element, “Oh, no, 10,000 dollars would just be for the planning! You’d need even _more_ money for installation, training, maintenance, operation…I’d say that just to get things started you’d need at least…oh…some 50,000 dollars would be a believable ballpark figure.”

 

     _That would be a LOT of money that a failing business would NOT be able to dish out…_

 

     “Do you think that a business like Big Bob’s Beepers would have that kind of money to set up something like that?”

 

     Again, he glanced at Helga.

     Again, she didn’t flinch or panic.

     Just another raised eyebrow, or half an eyebrow, in her case.

 

     “I seriously doubt it. Besides, Big Bob’s Beepers is in transition right now, right, Helga?”

     The three turned to the blonde girl, who blinked for a moment, “Uh…what? Um, of course! Bob is changing the whole focus of the store right now, so I don’t think he’d be able to dish out 50,000 dollars for surveillance. The store _does_ have security equipment, but I doubt that it’s that expensive. You know Bob, he’d always go for the cheapest he can get.”

 

     Arnold saw that she wasn’t stuttering or trying to make up anything on the spot, no excuses, no lies, but the honest truth.

     So Helga wasn’t hiding anything under Big Bob’s Beepers?

 

     “Okay, thanks, Phoebe,” he turned slightly, “and thanks, Helga, that really helped me out.” The two boys stood and left the girls alone on their lunch table.

 

     “I wonder why he’s going around asking so much from everyone,” said Helga, unsure if she should feel relieved that Arnold didn’t lash out to her again, angry that he practically ignored her up to a few moments ago, or jealous that his focus had been Phoebe and not her. Come to think of it, she wouldn’t mind a little attention from him, even if it was negative.

     “He’s also writing down the data. Perhaps whatever disturbed him this morning also confused him somehow?”

     “Maybe, but he didn’t need to pin me down on my desk like that…” the girl sighed with sadness and fear.

     Phoebe placed a comforting hand on her right arm, “Helga, Arnold’s patience isn’t infinite; in fact, I’m surprised he has lasted this long before exploding the way he did this morning. Whatever happened to him before he left for school…well…it wore out whatever patience he had left, and you…um…just tipped him over the edge.” The blonde girl picked at her meagre lunch, looking up for a moment as the boy she loved went outside. “Helga, he apologised to us and to Mister Simmons. I know this will be very difficult for you, but I think it would _really_ help Arnold if you also apologised to him.” The pasty-skinned girl flinched, finally, when her friend said “apologise”. Phoebe insisted, “He said he had a very bad morning, Helga. Maybe if you do something nice, you’ll be the one helping _him_ for a change…and he’ll look at you with, say, a more positive attitude?”

     “Maybe, but not here, Phoebe. You know that it can never be here, in front of everyone.”

     “Right, Helga, right.”

 

 

     As the class eventually made their way out to the playground for their final recess until September, they found Arnold sitting on a wooden crate next to the wall of the building, with Gerald standing beside him, trying to read what he was writing on his notebook. And the more Arnold wrote, the more frustrated he became.

 

     _No “footage” of everything I did…no way to record it all…no way to STORE it all…_

 

     “Um, Arnold?”

     The blonde boy looked up to see Sid standing in front of him, holding his report card. He said nothing, but glared at the boy with the huge nose and large green cap.

     “S-sorry to bother you, I know you’re busy writing stuff down, but…I need your help, okay?”

     Arnold’s fists turned white. _Seriously? He wants help from ME, like, right NOW?_

     “Okay, here’s the thing. I didn’t get the good grades that I expected, and I have NO idea of how to break the news to my parents. I mean, I didn’t fail, but my grades are low, like REALLY low. I need your advice on what to do…and you’re the only one I know who can help. Please help me!”

 

     Arnold looked at him.

     And looked at him.

     _And looked at him._

 

     Then he stood, and downright _glared_ at Sid, to the point that he backed up slightly in fear.

     Shutting his notebook, Arnold spoke with an angry voice again, “Sid, do I look like an adult to you? Have I dished out so much advice to you that you seriously don’t know what to do at this point? Sid, as much as I would like to help you, I simply can’t, because, A, I have never been in the situation you are now, and B, you have the school councillor, Doctor Bliss, to help you out with whatever you need, AND, I might add, she is able to give you _much better advice_ than I can.” He sighed and closed his eyes, trying to push back his rage so he would not explode again like he did this morning. “Sid, if you _truly_ think that a _nine-year-old_ can help you solve all your problems, especially this one, then you have _serious_ issues…and you _really_ need professional help.”

     With that, Arnold Phillip Shortman, _former_ do-gooder and advisor to children and adults alike, turned aside and walked back into the school building, with everyone staring at him in renewed shock.

     Sid just stood there, dejected, almost dropping his report card as his arms fell to his sides.

 

     Moments later, the bell announced the end of recess, and the children returned to their respective classes.

 

 

     The entirety of the fourth-grade class was unusually quiet and subdued for the rest of the day; no longer were they fidgeting or restless, waiting for the ringing of the final bell that would set them free from their educational bondage until the following September. Instead, they all eyed the football-headed boy, incredulous that he had very much renounced his role as their advisor.

     The boy in question, meanwhile, continued to write down his dream as it came back in larger and larger pieces, and he wrote it down as fast as he could, noting the page numbers where the flow of the dream continued in its correct chronological order.

     He looked up and saw his teacher apparently relieved that his class was quiet and still, allowing him to give his final lessons of the year.

 

     _…relieved that his class was quiet and still…_

 

     Arnold remembered the fiasco of the flood earlier that year, and how Mister Simmons had completely lost control of everything, and the other incident when he was suddenly placed as principal, and lost ALL control of the whole school then, to the point that they almost lost the whole school year…

 

     The final bell rang.

 

     Instead of the kids rushing out with cheers and glee, they all stood, quite quickly, and distanced themselves from Arnold as fast as they could.

     All except Gerald, of course, who stayed behind, waiting for his friend. Noticing this, Arnold stood and told him, “I’ll catch up with you in a bit, Gerald, now I have to ask Mister Simmons some stuff. He was in my dream, too, and he was…his usual self, I think, or maybe his exaggerated self. I kinda need to know for sure.”

     “Okay, man, just don’t lose your temper again. Everyone’s kinda avoidin’ you now; it’s like they’re all afraid of you or somethin’.”

     “Ahh, they’ll get over it. But really, I’m going through some heavy stuff now and I really can’t give out advise as I used to, not now, at least.”

     “Okay, I’ll be waitin’ for you outside.” He held out his right fist, and much to his relief, Arnold also held out his right fist, doing their secret handshake.

 

     Gerald smiled, at last.

 

     Once his friend had left the classroom, Arnold walked up to Mister Simmons’ desk, where his teacher was packing his belongings into a small cardboard box. Looking at him, the boy was now hit with the full force of guilt of what he had done and said that morning.

     “Arnold?” asked the balding man, once he noticed that his last student hadn’t left yet.

     “Mister Simmons, I just want to say again that…that I’m sorry for my outburst this morning. That…that’s not who I am…I think. It…it won’t happen again, really.”

     The adult eyed him curiously, and asked, “Arnold, I know you’re not like that, being so _special_ , but what happened to you, exactly? Maybe I can help, after all, I’m a responsible adult.”

 

     _“Responsible”, right…_

 

     Apparently ignoring his request, the child began his next interview. “Mister Simmons, were you ever in the army? Or did you ever take any course on basic survival skills?”

     Slightly surprised that his student had gone off on a tangent, he answered as best as he could, “No, but I was in the Boy Scouts when I was your age. Why do you ask?”

     Maybe it was because of his blatant insult this morning, but Arnold felt that his teacher deserved a more thorough explanation. “Well…last night, I had a dream, it was about you…and the whole class, actually.”

     The man sat down. “Really? What were we doing in your _special_ dream?”

     “I don’t remember all of it, but we were on a class trip, with only one chaperone, oddly enough. And then, every one of us, including you and the chaperone, got captured by a really vicious thief and smuggler. And you…” Arnold sighed, looking at the floor. “You couldn’t do anything. There was no hope of escape…none whatsoever…and…and you…” He looked up at him. “You simply lost it. In the cell where we were all being held, you were trying to hold a class. You were ignoring all the kids who were crying and who were begging you to help them…and even the chaperone couldn’t do anything…and all you were doing was trying to teach a school lesson. It was spooky…there was this look in your eyes…it…it really looked like you had completely lost your mind.”

     The teacher looked with intrigue at his student but didn’t question the actions of his dream self. Instead, he encouraged him to continue, “And what else happened?”

     Arnold almost dismissed the rest, “Eventually we were all rescued, no one was killed or injured, but you…you were just part of those who were rescued…almost…almost as if…” He wasn’t sure how to phrase it.

     “As if I were just another _special_ student?”

     Practically embarrassed, he had to agree. “Kinda, yeah…you…you seriously couldn’t do anything to help anyone. You were…you were…”

     “A useless f###t?”

     The boy flinched as his insult was returned to him, almost like a slap on the face. “Mister…Mister Simmons, I _know_ you’re not useless. I mean, you’re a great teacher, you have lots of knowledge, you won the Teacher of the Year Award, for crying out loud…!” He rolled his eyes and waved his hands somewhat, making the point.

     His teacher gave him his trademark kind smile. “Arnold, you can be perfectly sure that if I was in charge of the _special_ class and we all got into a life-and-death situation, I would do anything I could to help. I’ve been in very stressful situations before, so I more than anyone would know that I wouldn’t break down mentally like that. Now, once the danger has passed, I might go into a nervous breakdown, but certainly not before.”

     Maybe it was his annoying smile that seemed to contradict his reassurance. “Are…are you sure? I mean, you didn’t exactly make a good impression when you were Acting Principal…”

     Now the man became nervous again. “Oh…that…well, Arnold, that was unexpected, after all I had little support, I practically had no help from the staff, and running a whole _special_ school doesn’t exactly compare with handling just one _special_ class. It was a bit too much for me to handle, and much too soon. But who knows, in a few years I might try for School Principal again—”

     “…or during the flood, when the students had to rescue _you_ …”

     The adult raised his hands, silencing the boy. “I learned my _special_ lesson then, Arnold. I should have stayed put and waited for professional rescuers to arrive. But I will have you know that after the flood, all the teachers, and Principal Wartz, took a _special_ course on how to handle emergency situations. You can be sure that an incident like that won’t happen again, not with me, at least.”

     Arnold eyed him, unconvinced. Still, he humoured him, “Well, I guess you’ve proven that my dream was all wrong. After all, you’re now a _more_ responsible adult, so in the next life-and-death situation that may come, we all now know that we’ll be able to count on you, I guess…” With that, he put away his notebook.

     Smiling, thinking that he had put his student’s fears at ease, Simmons concluded, “Of course, Arnold! Also, keep in mind that for any _special_ trip like that, I would have _at least_ five chaperones helping me out. If anything wrong were to happen, I certainly wouldn’t be alone in doing what we could to help you. I’m not sure why your _special_ dream only had one chaperone; that’s not very realistic.”

     “No, of course it isn’t,” replied the boy, again humouring his teacher.

     “And remember, Arnold, you are very _special_ , so you can count on me for anything, understand?”

     Almost monotone, the blonde child finished, “Of course, Mister Simmons. Have a great summer.”

     The naïve man simply smiled and waved him good-bye. And as Arnold left the classroom one last time until September, halfway down the hall he looked back at the classroom door.

 

     _Count on you? Yeah, right._


	5. Chapter Three: Real Life Facts

**THREE – REAL LIFE REACTS**

 

 

     Like Gerald said, he was waiting for him at the front steps of the school. Arnold smiled at his friend, slightly relieved that the dark-skinned boy was—so far— _one_ person he could count on to remain stable and level-headed.

     “Man, I would certainly be quite miffed if, on top of havin’ to see him all day long, I would then have a dream with Simmons in it, and more if that dream seemed like it lasted all summer long. What did he do in your dream, though?”

     As they started to walk home, the blonde boy replied, “Nothing, really, but it was precisely ‘nothing’ that made him _really_ annoying. I mean, you’d think that a responsible adult—OOF!!!”

     He was stopped by a mountain of muscle that suddenly appeared in his path. The two friends looked up…

     “Oh, hello, Wolfgang. I trust you finished fifth grade okay?” asked the blonde boy at the tall former fifth-grader in front of him, and his two henchboys behind him.

     The bully smiled rather disturbingly at the shorter boy. “Hey, Football Head, I was wondering if you were ever going to come out of the school. Were you going to live there now or something?”

     Arnold replied without a hint of fear, “Well, sorry I disappointed you there, I was tying up some loose ends in what has been a rather bad day for me—”

     “What do you want, Wolfgang?” demanded Gerald, finally, annoyed at Arnold not getting to the point, and more when dealing with a bully who had no qualms in resorting to actual physical violence. “There are no baseball or football games today, much less against YOU.”

     “Oh, pipe down, Gerald, this has nothing to do with any current game.” Wolfgang turned to the blonde boy. “So, Arnold, I hear that today you actually grew a backbone and put that brat Pataki in her place this morning. Is that true?”

     Arnold looked at the bully for a moment, and replied with annoyance, “Looks like word travels fast in this school. But yes, Helga shot one-too-many spit wads at me, and I reacted accordingly. I’m sure you jumped for joy once you found out that one of the banes of your existence finally got what she had coming to her, so thanks for noticing. Have a nice summer.” He took one step forward and had to take two steps backward when the bully’s left arm shoved him back to his spot in front of him.

     “Hey, don’t leave so soon!” Wolfgang’s goons laughed. “There’s one pending matter that I would like to deal with now. Namely: The Mud Bowl.”

     Getting more annoyed, Arnold sighed and continued, “And just what is pending from that? You lost the Mud Bowl fair and square; even your sidekicks admitted that.”

     The bully’s face slowly turned red with anger. “That’s not the point, Football Head. The point is that you, and YOUR goons, made a fool of me that day.”

     The shorter boy looked at his bully with hooded eyes for a minute, and asked, “And you’re bringing this up NOW? Wolfgang, the Mud Bowl was months ago.”

     The taller boy cracked his knuckles. “Oh, I know it was a few months ago. But you see, this is my dilemma. If I had decided to deal with this right after the game, everyone would have looked at me and said I was a criminal for beating up a defenceless shrimp—you know, how you were back then—so it wouldn’t exactly be good PR with me. But now that I know that you actually have a backbone, I can now beat you to a pulp with a clean conscience, knowing that I won’t look like I’m picking on a ‘defenceless’ shrimp.”

     Gerald stood back at that threat, but Arnold didn’t even flinch, or blink, or even widen his eyes at that. Instead, the “defenceless shrimp” gave a _very_ annoyed sigh and replied, “Wolfgang, as much as I would LOVE to help you out in taking your aggression out on me, right now I’m having a really, REALLY bad day. And while I know you want more than anything to ruin my summer for a game you lost fair and square, believe me, you didn’t exactly pick the best day to do that. However, I’m more than willing to let you do whatever you want with me…” he glared at Wolfgang, “…tomorrow, in front of my house, in front of my grandparents, and anyone else you want to invite. So if you want even _better_ PR, go and announce the fight all over town. After all…” he looked away slightly, “…I’m not going anywhere this summer.”

     The African-American boy beside him was about to ask his friend if he had gone crazy, or if the dream had made him slightly insane. He only got as far as opening his mouth when Wolfgang suddenly swung his fist at Arnold, fully intent on breaking his nose or knocking out a few teeth.

     What Gerald suddenly saw was quite surprising. Wolfgang missed completely, and now Arnold was standing behind him, with his blond hair slightly ruffled, and still with hooded eyes.

     The bully was confused for a moment, wondering where his target had gone, until he turned around and growled, _“You’re dead!!!”_

     Arnold didn’t bother replying. He just motioned Gerald to step back a bit, which the boy did mechanically. _Was Arnold actually going to fight the biggest bully in the school?_

     Gerald saw Wolfgang swing again—

 

     _It was the karate fiasco all over again._

 

     Gerald wasn’t sure what exactly happened, mostly because Arnold’s arms and legs moved so fast they were practically a blur. What he _did_ see was the bully suddenly grab his own throat, wide eyed and wheezing for air, then he had the wind knocked out of him when a football-shaped head smashed into his chest, and finally his head bounced like a punching bag several times from several kicks that were applied to it.

     And just as soon as the fight began, Wolfgang suddenly fell to his knees and covered his crotch with his hands while he gave a very high-pitched whine.

 

     _What? Arnold gave him a LOW BLOW???!!!_

 

     One final roundhouse kick to the chin showed that the bully had a very bad glass jaw, and he fell forward, faceplanting on the sidewalk, totally unconscious.

 

     Arnold looked at Wolfgang’s sidekicks, who had stepped aside to give their “boss” room to fight. The boy was about to ask them if they considered it worthwhile to support someone who resorted to violence so often, and if they wanted to associate themselves with a boy like that, but as soon as he opened his mouth, the henchboys high-tailed it out of there, abandoning their downed “boss”, and leaving him, Arnold, and Gerald, alone in front of the—

 

     “AR-NOLD!!! AR-NOLD!!! AR-NOLD!!! AR-NOLD!!!”

 

     No, they were not alone. Neither Gerald nor Arnold nor Wolfgang noticed that as soon as the bully confronted his “victim”, the other kids from P.S. 118 had started to gather nearby, and they all most definitely witnessed Arnold physically defeating the bane of their existence.

     The rest of the former fifth grader boys weren’t cheering, however. Instead, they were eyeing the blonde boy with definite wariness, since they now considered him to be the “new” Wolfgang. And the third graders were downright cowering behind the rest of the kids, very much fearing for their lives, as they knew that on the next Trash Day, they were going to have a very, _very_ bad day.

 

     “AR-NOLD!!! AR-NOLD!!! AR-NOLD!!! AR-NOLD!!!”

 

     The victor turned to look at his impromptu audience, almost pitying them for having them cheer at a victory that could be fleeting at best, after all, none of them knew if next September they would get a new student who would be a much better fighter than he was, or a worse bully than Wolfgang was.

     “Come on, Gerald, let’s go home.” The boy adjusted his tiny blue cap, re-did his hair, fixed his backpack, sweater, and flannel shirt, hiked up his pants, and went on his way, with his best friend looking at him with total unbelief before running and catching up with him, and walking on his left at a very noticeable arm’s distance.

 

     “AR-NOLD!!! AR-NOLD!!! AR-NOLD!!! AR-NOLD!!!”

 

     The rest of the kids continued to cheer for a while, and some even followed him for a block or two before eventually breaking up and going their separate ways.

     Two children were among those who weren’t cheering: Helga Pataki and Phoebe Heyerdahl.

     Helga had visibly blanched when she saw Wolfgang confront her beloved; she was sure that Arnold would go home with a bloody nose, or worse, a broken nose and a black eye or two, but she never expected the boy she loved to leave the school bully on the sidewalk like yesterday’s trash! But then, her fear that the boy of her dreams was now turning into a monster was paused when she saw just _how_ the other kids were cheering for him.

 

     Or actually, how _the other fourth-grade AND the fifth-grade GIRLS_ were cheering for him.

 

     Rhonda, Nadine, and Sheena were practically cheering the loudest, but that wasn’t what had Helga worried.

 

     What had her worried was that the three had that _look_ in their eyes, _that same look_ that she gave Arnold whenever no one was looking, and she was sure that little red hearts were popping up from their heads, too. Now that Arnold had indeed proven that he had a backbone AND he had disposed of the bully who had annoyed them all for so long, his previous outburst of this morning had been forgiven and forgotten, and now the three girls were very much considering Arnold to be a _very definite romantic candidate_.

 

     _Well, not if SHE could help it._

 

     Of course, the only other girl who wasn’t looking at Arnold like that was Phoebe. While she was definitely grateful that Arnold had defeated Wolfgang so bluntly and decisively, she only had eyes for Gerald, or Gerald’s rear at this particular moment—

 

     “PHOEBE!!!”

 

     The Asian-American girl snapped out of her reverie. “Oh, sorry, Helga. That was…an impressive display of martial arts and self-defence from Arnold—”

     “Yeah, yeah, we have a new Bruised Lee in the neighbourhood, I know that. You just make sure that Rhonda, Sheena, and Nadine get home okay, and maybe try to get Arnold out of the heads of all the girls for the rest of the day. I have to follow him, because if whatever happened to him this morning caused him to do THIS,” she gestured at the still unconscious bully, “there’s…” she gulped, feeling a knot in her throat start to form, “…there’s no telling just HOW worse this is going to get. Now go!!!”

     “Got it!!!”

 

     Helga ran after Arnold and Gerald, keeping her distance and staying out of sight.

     Also, the shock of the sudden fight seemed to have reactivated her poetic talents, as she recited to herself:

 

     _Oh, my beloved! Your resolve, your patience, your compassion, your very self is crumbling before my eyes! What happened to you that you’re suppressing the kind and selfless boy I’ve known for six years, and he is now slowly being replaced by a selfish, short-tempered monster? Why are you turning into a bully yourself? Why are you turning…_

_…turning…_

_…oh my god, turning into ME!!!_

_Don’t worry, my sultry pre-teen, I will get to the bottom of this, and I will rescue you from yourself, from this deadly spiral you’ve started sliding down on, before nothing is left of the boy I fell in love with that dreary Monday morning in front of Urban Tots, and before I have nothing left to love…and before…before…_

 

     She stopped at a corner, leaning back against the building, gasping for air, clutching her chest, and gripping her locket hidden in her pink jumper.

 

     _…before…I fall out of love with you…_

 

     She couldn’t let that happen.

 

     Not again.

 

     _Not EVER._


	6. Chapter Four: More Interviews

**FOUR – MORE INTERVIEWS**

 

 

     “Okay, who are you, and what have you done with my main man Arnold?”

     “Gerald…”

     “I mean, I KNOW Arnold took karate lessons a few months back, but that was just a one-time thing, right? Arnold would have told me if his lessons continued and he became a…a…a _superninja_ or somethin’!!!”

     “Gerald…”

     “Seriously, I mean, _I_ certainly remember the last time we dealt with Wolfgang AND Ludwig! They left us out to dry, right? THE WHOLE FREAKIN’ CLASS!!! What gives here, Arnold??? Don’t tell me your dream gave you superpowers or somethin’, and that’s why you’ve been so moody and short-tempered all day long—”

     “GERALD!!!”

     The African-American cowered before his friend and whimpered, “…please don’t hit me…!”

     “Gerald, stop being a baby and straighten up. I doubt Phoebe would like to see you like that.”

     The dark-skinned boy realised that and slowly stood up straight, but still a trifle wary of his friend with apparently new superninja superpowers, and slightly annoyed that he brought Phoebe once again into this.

     “Now, here’s the deal,” began the Caucasian boy. “First of all, my grandma didn’t stop the karate lessons after that incident with my bus pass. She always follows through, and the lessons continued whenever we had time. Second, Ludwig and Wolfgang left us out to dry because…because…” Arnold stopped. “Because I was afraid, okay? I was afraid I hadn’t advanced far enough in my lessons, and considering what a jerk I was when I went around in my _gi_ , kicking at everything that annoyed me, I thought…I _knew_ that it would only take one mistake for both bullies to cause me some _serious_ harm, okay? Or even worse, that I would fly off the handle and cause THEM some serious harm! That’s why I held back. They got what they wanted, and they even stopped bothering us, well, for a while, at least. As to what happened just now…” He rubbed his face for a moment, the reality of what he had just done finally sinking in. “It was too much, okay? Wolfgang wouldn’t listen to reason, he wouldn’t leave me alone, and he wouldn’t even consider coming to my house tomorrow to do everything he wanted, okay? He attacked first, I defended myself, end of story!!!” Gerald eyed him with disbelief. “Okay, maybe not the end, but with everything that happened to me today, with Helga finally making me lose my temper, then everything I learned that proved that what I dreamed was _indeed_ a stupid dream…well…Wolfgang came at the wrong place and the wrong time! I…I had never felt so angry, Gerald. I could have easily dragged out the fight as long as I wanted and made him suffer even more, but Wolfgang would have ended up a lot worse, or I could have made a mistake, and it would only take ONE mistake for me to lose the fight. So, I took what I learned from my grandma…and applied it today…and I became a monster, practically.”

     “Maybe, but the good news is that Wolfgang and his goons aren’t goin’ to be botherin’ us ever again, I hope!”

     “You don’t know that. For all we know, I may just have made things worse for the whole school. Wolfgang wanted to fight because he heard what I did to Helga…who knows if now Ludwig or Torvald are going to want a piece of me now!!!”

     Gerald balked at that. “Wow, I never thought of it that way.”

     “That’s why I’ve always tried to avoid fights…but Wolfgang…left me with no choice.”

     “He probably would have gone after me if you had refused, too.”

     Arnold’s dejection stopped for a moment, and he smiled slightly at his best friend. “There’s no way I would ever let that happen, friend.”

     Gerald’s fear finally dissipated, and once more they did their secret handshake. “You know, Arnold, I’m thinkin’ of askin’ your grandma for a few lessons of my own.”

     “Oh, please don’t start.”

     “Why not? Didn’t you see how the girls were makin’ lovey-dovey eyes at you the moment you left Wolfgang faceplanted on the sidewalk?”

     Arnold raised an eyebrow. “Huh? Lovey-dovey eyes?”

     His friend rolled his eyes.

 

     _Dense, just as always. At least SOMETHIN’ hasn’t changed._

 

     “I guess you were too busy walkin’ away in anger to notice, but yeah, I wouldn’t mind doin’ somethin’ heroic and have the girls look at me like they did at you just now.”

     “Especially Phoebe?”

     “ESPECIALLY PH—I mean—shut up, man!!! Stop bringin’ Phoebe into this!!!” Gerald blushed, ashamed at his own speech blunder. He would have punched Arnold in the shoulder, but he wasn’t taking any chances now.

     Arnold laughed, “She already has her eye on you, okay? And besides, some ninety percent of Grandma’s lessons are just meditating and relaxing, and learning how to be more aware of your surroundings; basically, it’s all just sensing if there’s anything dangerous around you, like…like…”

 

     He stopped again, and his friend stopped a moment later.

 

     “What?”

 

     Arnold just looked straight ahead, eyeing some storefront windows, car windows and their mirrors, and glancing at several shadows. “We’re being followed.”

     Gerald looked all around them, but didn’t see anyone, and any adults around were very much ignoring them.

     “Wait…” whispered the “superninja”.

     The two boys stood in the middle of the sidewalk for a few seconds, and then Arnold calmly walked to a parked car. Crossing his arms, and looking at the sky, away from the car, he calmly stated, “Helga, I know you’re following us. You can stop hiding now, I…I am not going to hurt you…again…” he sighed in shame.

     Gerald wondered why he was looking at the sky, until he saw the girl in question emerge from behind the car Arnold was standing next to. “How…how did you…?”

     “Um…hi, Football Head,” said the former bully. “I…I see you not only never forgot your karate lessons…you even went for the advanced classes, right?”

     Her beloved finally turned to look at her. “No, my grandma never stopped teaching me, ‘doi’,” he almost spat in response, making her cower and again place the car between them.

 

     For a while, the blonde boy and girl looked at each other and said nothing, while the dark-skinned boy just looked at the two.

 

     They said nothing.

     They did nothing.

 

     Finally, Arnold spoke, “Aren’t you going home, Helga?”

     She sputtered at his sudden question, “Uh, yeah, sure, ‘doi’, where else would I be going?”

 

     _Another memory flashed into Arnold’s mind._

_Her home…her NEW home? Her…_

 

     “Helga, are you going home, as in…to your house?”

     It was Helga’s turn to raise an eyebrow at the strange question. “Yessssss?” she asked unsure.

     “As in, to your house, your home-home-house? The blue three-story house a few blocks from here?”

     Helga’s abrasive personality slowly returned with that inquiry, “Well…of…of COURSE to my blue three-story house, doi!!! Crimeny, where ELSE would I be going, Football Head? Big Bob’s Beepers???

 

     Arnold once again closed his eyes and rubbed his head with both hands, remembering again, remembering, remembering…

 

     Finally, he lowered his hands and approached her carefully, not wanting to frighten her any more than what he already had. “Helga, I…I know that this is going to sound like a stupid question, but…” He paused for a moment, making sure he phrased this correctly, “You don’t live in your dad’s store, do you?”

     Both Gerald and Helga eyed him like he had lost his mind.

     Helga’s abrasive personality returned in full force, though still slightly afraid of the handsome blonde boy in front of him. “Well…NO, Paste-For-Brains!!! Why would I be living there??? That’s a STORE, not a HOUSE!!!”

     Arnold fished around his pockets for his notebook as he continued his interview. “And Big Bob’s Beepers can’t be remodelled in such a way that it would have a living space in it, right?”

     The girl thought for a moment, making some quick calculations, and replied, “No, not if you’re planning on losing valuable sales floor space. But from where are you getting these crazy ideas, _Arnoldo_?”

     Her beloved wrote a few things down, and replied with another sad sigh, “Well…nowhere, really, it was just a stupid dream I had last night.”

     “Crimeny, Football Head, that must have been a REALLY stupid dream if it made you turn a 180 and become the bully of the day, for once.” Seeing him obviously distraught about the whole ordeal, however, made her decide to follow Phoebe’s advice, and she brought out her compassionate side, albeit slightly. “Uh…wanna talk about it?” she asked, wondering if she actually would be able to help him as well as he had helped others in the past.

     Much to her chagrin, he replied, “Maybe…maybe later. I’m still trying to remember all of it. It was very long, and just about everyone I know was in it. It’s coming back in bits and pieces right now, and I’m writing everything down before I forget it.” The three resumed their walk, this time to Helga’s house. “It’s...confused me to no end, I’ll tell you that. When I woke up this morning I didn’t know if I was still sleeping or if I had woken up for real, or worse, if I was living the same day over and over—”

     “Like in _Groundhog Night_?” she asked.

     “Yeah. Funny movie, but trust me, you wouldn’t want to be caught up in a time loop like that.”

     “And from your…uh…reactions this morning, I’m going to assume that I was also in your dream? Did I do something terrible to you in it?”

     He turned to her, looking at her ocean blue eyes. “W-well, Helga, you were there, too, yes. But you didn’t do anything terrible to me, you were just…your usual self. Your parents and sister were there, too—”

     “Ugh, OLGA was there? Crimeny, Football Head, no wonder you’ve been chewing everyone’s head off all day long!!! Sheesh, if I had a crazy-long dream with Olga, I’d be much worse off than YOU!!!”

 

     The three children looked at themselves for a moment, and suddenly laughed at Helga’s comment.

 

     Arriving at her house, Arnold continued while chuckling, “Olga was there, yes, but she wasn’t any more overbearing than usual. If anything, she was just helping Mister Simmons chaperone the whole class in a huge trip we all took. And…and…” he chuckled again, “…you know, now that I remember, for a chaperone, she makes a very good teacher.”

 

     The three looked at each other again, and laughed one more time.

 

     “Well, Football Head, this is where I get off. If I ever see Olga, I’ll be sure to chew her out for giving you annoying dreams. It’s bad enough that the dream itself has given you so many problems, that Olga _also_ had to be in it and make things worse for you. Well, see you in the funny papers, Hair Boy.”

     The blonde girl turned and walked up the stoop of her house, but Arnold called out, “Helga, wait. Is your dad home right now?”

     She stopped and turned to him again, “No, it’s barely three o’clock, so he should still be at the beeper store right now. Why?”

     Arnold sighed once more. “Well, looking at your house, and seeing that you still live in it…I’m remembering more stuff about the dream. I just need to ask him a few things.”

     Helga eyed him for a bit, and replied, “Okay. I’m going in to see if I can find some food, first. I doubt Miriam cooked anything, though…”

 

     Once the blonde girl had gone inside and shut the door, Arnold sat on her stoop to continue writing down his dream.

 

     “So Big Bob Pataki was in your dream, too?” asked Gerald, choosing to remain standing.

     “Yeah, but the weird part is that he was the same Big Bob Pataki we all knew, but he had really bad financial problems. He had lost the house, and his whole family had to move into the store. I’m wondering if that’s actually possible, given the size of the store…” Suddenly, the boy stood and commanded, “Let’s go.”

     “Huh? Go where?”

     “To Big Bob’s Beepers. If there’s one place that will confirm or deny that what I dreamed is real or not, that will be the place.”

     Arnold thus set off in the direction of the store, without bothering to ask Gerald for his opinion on the matter. Not wishing to leave his best friend alone, the dark-skinned boy followed him right then.

 

     Two minutes later, Helga opened the door, complaining, “Crimeny, you’d THINK that woman would know how to use a stove by now! There’s nothing cooked here, just some apples and grapes and…Arnold?”

     She looked down, and saw that her stoop was empty. Looking up again, she was able to see the pair in the distance, obviously headed for her father’s store.

 

     With a long sigh, she held her hands in front of her, and ranted, _“Oh, my beloved Arnold, seeking for answers to your mysterious dream! How I long for you to share with me the secrets of your subconscious so that I would then share the secrets of MY subconscious and that way our individual subconsciouses would mould themselves together and deepen the bond we’ve already shared since we almost lost the neighbourhood, and since the up-close-and-personal dance we had back in April! Oh, dear Arnold, how I long to have you in my arms again so you can pour out your pains and fears, so you would know that I will protect you from—”_

 

     Heavy asthmatic breathing behind her.

     Growling on her part.

     Cracking her knuckles.

     A swift left backhand.

     The shattering of eyeglasses.

     The thud of an unconscious Brainy.

 

     Brushing off some round bits of glass from her knuckles, Helga ran off to catch up with her beloved and his best friend.

 

     A few minutes later, she caught up with the pair. “Crimeny…Football Head!” she wheezed. “Just because…you’re having a hard day…doesn’t mean…you have to…be rude!!!”

     The boys turned to look at Helga run up to them, gasping for air from her sudden sprint.

     “Helga? I thought you were going to eat and stay at your house,” said the football-headed boy.

     “And we’re only headed for your dad’s store,” added Gerald. “You didn’t sound like you wanted to tag along.”

     “Yeah, well…” she gasped, “…maybe I also wanted to talk to my dad…okay? And it’s not like…I need an excuse to be there…you know!”

     The boys looked at each other and shrugged. “Okay,” said Arnold. “Sorry if we misunderstood and ‘ditched’ you, Helga. It won’t happen again.”

     “It better not!!!” she growled. “Because if it does…!!!” Here she raised her left hand, about to make a fist; and she would have given a cliché threat involving “Ol’ Betsy and the Five Avengers”, typical of her, but given what Arnold had done to her and Wolfgang earlier, she wasn’t about to take any chances. With some trepidation, she put her hand down. “Uh…just don’t, okay???!!!”

     Arnold rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say, Helga.”

 

* * *

 

 

     The beeper emporium wasn’t that far from where the girl had caught up with the boys, so it wasn’t long before they entered the air-conditioned main sales floor, giving them relief from the early summer afternoon heat.

     Arnold looked around and noticed that the store still had its share of employees, mostly salesmen and a technician or two. There weren’t that many beepers on display, though, and they seemed to have been replaced by phones, handheld CB radios, and CB radio consoles.

     “The store seems to be doin’ okay,” said Gerald.

     “Or so it seems.” Arnold turned to a passing employee and said, “Excuse me, I need to speak with Robert Pataki. Is he in his office?”

     The bored-looking brown-haired young man looked at the two boys and replied, “Mister Pataki is a bit busy right now. Perhaps we can be of help? Do you need a wireless communication device—”

     “No, you nimrod!!!” blasted Helga, suddenly standing between the two. “I’m his daughter, remember? WE all need to talk to my dad, like RIGHT NOW, okay?”

     It wasn’t easy to forget someone like Helga, especially knowing she was the boss’ daughter, so with a fearful nod, the employee led the trio to the back of the sales floor, and to a door which had a “PRIVATE” sign on it.

     “Thanks,” said Arnold, as the young man went back to his post. “And thanks, Helga, that was nice of you,” he added, almost smiling at the girl.

     “Um…well…yeah, sure, Football Head.” She struggled not to melt at his almost-smile. “Don’t ever say I never did you any favours.”

 

     That statement almost made him freeze in introspect again, but he shook his head. He would bookmark that flashback for now and go back to it later. Right now, he needed to talk to Robert Pataki.

 

     Helga opened the office door without knocking—not that she needed to knock—and the three went inside. As she expected, Bob was sitting at his desk, with piles of documents in front of him, and all over the floor, too. At first glance it seemed like everything was in disarray, but with a closer look, the whole office was in a state of controlled chaos, after all, Arnold remembered that Phoebe told him that the store was in transition. Walking carefully around the piles of stationery, the three stopped in front of the desk.

     “What do you want, Olga? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

     The three kids flinched when they heard his gruff voice address Helga by the wrong name _again_ , breaking the three out of their individual thoughts.

     Before the girl could protest, Arnold began, “Sorry, Mister Pataki. I’m doing some research on businesses in Hillwood, and I’d like to ask you a few quick questions.”

     “Yeah, _Bob_ , this will be quick, and it won’t cost you anything.” Helga knew exactly what to say to help Arnold, and she smiled when Bob stopped what he was doing to actually pay attention to her beloved, right after she said that the whole interview would be free.

     “All right, fine. Just make it quick, boy.”

     Arnold was indeed quick and to the point. “Mister Pataki, this store is in a rather large building. Could it be made into living quarters too? You know, have it be part store, part home?”

     It was Big Bob Pataki’s turn to eye the boy with disbelief, as well as laugh at his questions. “Remodel it into a partial home? Well, if you don’t mind being cramped, I suppose it COULD be done, but you’d have to get rid of a few storerooms, you’d need to put a shower in the only bathroom, expand the kitchenette into being a real kitchen, and maybe expand the rooms into the salesfloor. Wouldn’t be a good idea, though. With less storerooms and less sales space, you’d have fewer sales and fewer profits.”

     Arnold was afraid of that. What he saw in his dream couldn’t possibly have been real, not by a long shot. Still, he pressed on, “Speaking of sales and profits, I noticed you are selling more than just beepers here. Why is that?”

     “Why? It’s called a shift of technologies, boy. I don’t just sell beepers, I also sell short wave radios, portable radios, citizen’s band radios—handheld and console, those are really popular with law enforcement, I tell you—but what’s really making sales right now are cell phones. In fact,” he waved a few documents in front of the children, “my suppliers keep sending me notices that they’re going to stop making beepers and switch to cell phones. This is really big stuff here; those phones are getting smaller and less expensive each day, and they’re even less expensive than the flip phone Miriam has!!!”

     The blonde boy turned to Helga, “Your mom has a cell phone?”

     She rolled her eyes and pulled out _her_ grey flip phone, also as thick as a blackboard eraser. “Doi! The whole family has one, Football Head! As the family of the owner, we have the perk of having the first pick on the new models that arrive, and we get to test them out! I had this one since last year, and it hasn’t failed me yet.”

     “Hey, doesn’t Phoebe have one like it?” asked Gerald.

     “Of course. As her best friend, I need someone to actually CALL in order to test the new models, so she also gets to take part in this new technology, isn’t that great?”

     Bob added, “And we’ve been selling cell phones since 1996. It was a slow start, but beepers had a slow start too, way before you three were born.”

     Arnold continued, “I guess that is true of all technologies, Mister Pataki. Eventually, you’re going to stop selling beepers?”

     “Kid, I’ve been planning on phasing out beepers for five years now! In fact, once the next shipment of cell phones arrives, I’ll be selling my remaining stock of beepers overseas where cell phones haven’t been introduced yet. Those poor chumps will get their introduction to radio communications with beepers before they move to cell phones, and _I’ll_ be the one raking in the dough!!!” The big man’s eyes twinkled with greed as he thumbed at himself.

     That, unfortunately, meant only one thing: “So…this store is in no danger of closing?”

     Bob did a double take. “What? Of course not, kid! I’ll have you know that I’m a businessman who learns from his mistakes, and I’ve been a _lot_ more careful with my business, especially after that #### of Sheck—” they all flinched at his brazen curse, “—and his goon double-crossed me! And now,” he picked up and waved another set of documents, “this supplier even wants to set up a cell antenna here, on the roof of my store AND another one on the roof of my house! I’m gonna get LOTS of revenue just by renting out the roof and airspace!”

     Dejected once more—this time his friends noticed, but not the adult—Arnold summarised, “Then…I suppose things are actually improving for you, financially speaking.”

     “You bet your beepers, kid, but it’s not exactly all sunshine and rainbows right now.”

     “Oh? Why is that?”

     “Well, once I stop selling beepers, it won’t make sense to keep calling this store ‘Big Bob’s _Beepers_ ’, right? And the name change is gonna have to happen sooner than I expected, because the registry of the old name is coming up for review in two months instead of three like I thought, so right now I’m trying to come up with a new name. Let’s see…” Bob leaned back and looked at yet another paper, sounding off his ideas for the store’s new name. “Pataki’s Phones and Stuff? BobCell? RobertCell? PatakiCell? Bob’s Mobile? Pataki Mobile?”

     As he went on and on, Arnold noticed that the wastebasket was overflowing with wads of crumpled paper, apparently all the other discarded ideas for a new name.

     “Robert Mobile? The New Cell Phone Store? Wired and Wireless by Bob?”

     The boy saw the letterhead on some of the discarded papers: specialised stationery made out for the store that would _also_ need to be altered once the new name was chosen, since a new logo would have to be designed.

     “Hillwood Cell? Hillwood Mobile? Lakeside Cell? Lakeside Mobile? Lakeside Wireless? Hillside Wireless?”

     The sign above the front doors would also have to be redone, but Arnold wondered why Bob Pataki wasn’t searching for any shortcuts or any way to save money on the name change. Or perhaps he had enough money for a complete do-over and was actually going to splurge this time?

     “New Neighbourhood Phones and Radios? Hillwood Phones and Radios?”

     Perhaps it was a habit that was hard to break, perhaps it was a hard-wired instinct, but Arnold’s brain reflexively began working on its own, and despite what he had told the entire fourth grade class earlier, and reaffirmed it with what he told Sid during recess, Arnold Phillip Shortman came up with advice.

 

     _For an adult, of all people._

 

     “How about ‘Big Bob’s Wireless’?”

     “Huh?” Bob actually stopped ranting and paid attention to the blonde boy.

     “Sure.” Arnold took a blank sheet that had a letterhead, and explained, “You used to be ‘Big Bob’s Beepers’, and the initials were ‘BBB’. If you now call your store ‘Big Bob’s Wireless’, the initials would now be ‘BBW’, so when you re-do the big sign outside, you can just take the third ‘B’, remove the left bar, turn it sideways, and you have your ‘W’ right there. If you just change ‘Beepers’ to ‘Wireless’, you’d only have to re-do part of the sign, and you’ll save a bit of money there. The letterheads and the logos on your employee’s shirts would also just require the change on only one letter. So if you just change one word, the whole name shift won’t need to be so expensive.”

     Robert Pataki looked at the boy, and looked at the boy, and looked at the boy—

     Then he dropped the documents on his desk and said, “Hmm…‘Big Bob’s Wireless’…and the ‘B’ changes to a ‘W’…and there will be continuity…you know what, that just might work! Thanks, Alfred!!!”

 

     _Alfred?_

 

     “Mister Pataki, my name is…ugh…never mind.”

     Now that the adult had the best idea laid out for him, he began filling out forms, basically tuning out the children. “Oh, boy, and when the new cell phone models and the antennas go up, I’ll finally be able to buy a new car and fix the house! Hmm…maybe I’ll finally be able to take Miriam on a trip…” he pondered.

     Arnold sighed and finished, “Well, thanks, Mister…thanks, ‘Bob’,” he smirked, then moved to the next topic, “Say, does this store have a basement?”

     The man turned slightly and scoffed, “Basement? No, the closest thing it has is the space for the water cistern. That got a lot of damage during the flood a while back. I was thinking of MAYBE putting in more store rooms underground, but the flood changed my mind. Imagine thousands of dollars of new products, all gone to waste because of that flood!”

 

     _Shot down yet again._

 

     The blonde boy sighed, “Of course, it would have been a big waste.” He was about to turn away, and his friends moved as if to follow him, but he suddenly remembered one last thing. “Mister Pataki…”

     The man looked up again.

     “Do you know who might sell video equipment? Especially for security and surveillance? Or just video tapes, cameras, DVD’s?”

     Bob looked at him for a moment, and replied, “Well, you won’t find any of that here. You might want to ask at Victor’s Video, he’s five blocks from here.”

     “Okay, thank you, Mister Pataki, this has been very helpful. Have a nice day.” Finally, Arnold turned and left the office, even more dejected than he had been before. He had the feeling he had forgotten something, but he couldn’t remember exactly what, and he didn’t want to stay in the store longer than he needed to, after all, Bob needed to get back to work.

     Gerald quickly followed, and of course, Helga wasn’t far behind, except for one tiny snag.

     “Hey, Olga!”

     The blonde girl flinched at him getting her name wrong again. Steaming, she turned back to him, and growled, “WHAT.”

     He gestured at the door that the boys had just left through, “That…that orphan boy…Alfred…he’s not your boyfriend, is he?”

 

     Helga’s eyes widened, and she blanched; her heart beating out of control in a sudden panic.

 

     _Bob couldn’t POSSIBLY know her secret, could he???_

 

     “Uh…um…ugh…WHAT???!!!” she stuttered, trying to weasel out of the sudden interrogation. “NO!!! No, he’s not my boyfriend!!!” she shrieked, waving angry arms. “He’s…he’s just some weird-headed boy from class doing some weird research for some weird project he’s doing!!! Why ELSE would I bring him here??? Doi, he just wanted to talk to YOU about your store!!!”

     An odd grin slowly appeared on her father’s face. “Yeah, he has a weird head, and maybe he’s an orphan, but I like the way he thinks. In five minutes, for FREE, he came up with a new practical and CHEAP name AND one that keeps my continuity, when I couldn’t do that in two weeks!!!”

     She continued to try to deflect Arnold from her person. Hands on her hips, she sneered, “Yeah, well, for a name designer, you make a very good salesman, Bob.”

     “Still,” he tapped his chin, unfazed at her veiled insult, “if he’s not your boyfriend, fine. But if I were you, I’d keep an eye on him.”

     She blinked. “Huh?”

     “You heard me! Keep an eye on him! He seems more grounded and nicer than any of the brats I’ve seen hanging around this neck of the woods. He’s even more intelligent than the kids I knew at his age!”

     Helga scoffed, “Puh. You didn’t see him this morning or thirty minutes ago, Bob.”

     “Whatever. Just don’t let him out of your sight, you hear?”

     Straightening up, her fists paled at her sides, and it took all her self-control to _not_ scream at him to _mind his own damned business_ about who he thought should be her soulmate, even if it _was_ the soulmate she chose since she was three. “FINE, BOB,” she growled, her voice dripping with venom. “Just don’t expect anything to come out of it. That weird-headed boy has his head in the clouds all day, you know.”

     With that, Helga stomped out of the office, and out of the store, and then she almost floated on air when she realised something.

 

     _He LIKES Arnold!!!_

_He APPROVES of Arnold as my boyfriend!!!_

_Oh, glorious miracle of miracles!!! That’s one obstacle I won’t have to jump anymore!!! Bob…LIKES…Arnold!!!_

 

     She would have pirouetted through the sales floor and out the main entrance, but her celebration would have to wait, as the others were waiting for her right outside. Wiping her goofy grin from her face, she frowned and stomped outside.

     Gerald was looking at Arnold and asking, “I thought you weren’t goin’ to dish out any more advice, much less to an adult.”

     Before he could answer, Helga added, “Yeah, I was wondering about that, Football Head. What gives here? Did you vent all your frustrations on Wolfgang and you’re back to your normal advice-giving, do-gooder self again?”

     The blonde boy looked at her, “No, it’s not that. It’s just that…the way your dad was prattling on and on, trying to come up with a new name for the store, it just got REALLY annoying, and I said the first thing that came to my mind, you know, something that would just mean a quick and cheap change, which he would obviously like.”

     “Still,” said Helga, a bit seriously. “That was…unusually nice of you, considering all that happened to you earlier, and all you did.”

     “Yeah, well, it was either that, or keep listening to him saying stupid names.” He then thought for a moment, turned fully to Helga, pointed his right index finger at her, and added, “So don’t ever say I never did you any favours…!!!” and then he trailed off, trying to finish his statement.

     Helga gestured for him to finish, which he didn’t. “Well…?”

     Arnold gave up and lowered his arm. “Eh, I’ve got nothing. If I had a nickname for you, I would have made it up a long time ago. Besides, you already got enough aggression from me this morning to last a decade, I suppose. And I guess I really did vent all my frustrations with Wolfgang and don’t have anything left to give you…poor guy…”

     She looked at him, first with seriousness, then with a flash of tenderness now that his caring side was finally returning, despite this morning’s blowout. Then her aggressive side suddenly returned with a vengeance and she chided, “Yeah, well, don’t you ever forget that, Football Head! And ANY nickname for me that would happen to come out of your mouth would have to get MY approval, got it???”

     He shook his head slightly; also glad the old Helga was back. “Whatever you say, Helga,” he said with resignation.

 

     The three just stood there for a moment, and promptly laughed once more at their own antics.

 

     As their laughter died down, Helga crossed her arms and hypothesised, “Now, let me guess, Football Head. From the questions you asked Bob and me, I can very much say that you dreamed that, since Bob was only selling beepers, and no one was buying beepers anymore, only cell phones, and Bob was so hard-headed that he refused to see that, we eventually lost the house, the car, and we all ended up living here, eking out a meagre living before the store finally got shut down?”

     Arnold now raised his right eyebrow, quite impressed by her powers of deduction. “Wow, you summarised that well, ‘Miss Sherlock’. But my dream was actually worse than that. Not only had you lost the house, and I _think_ your car, too, Bob had you working here, since he had lost all his employees, and he even tried to make you drop out of school so that you would work here instead. Not that you were that good of a salesgirl, though, no offense,” he quickly added.

     “ME? Working HERE??? That’s one messed up dream, Hair Boy!” she spat.

     “I know, and I had it all wrong, too. Your dad is actually very good at doing business. I…I guess I didn’t know him that well to see that, and he certainly wouldn’t let his store get left behind as technology advanced. I wonder what they had before beepers, though…”

     “Citizen’s Band radios,” she quickly replied. The girl then sighed, calming down, lowered her arms, and with a sober tone, summarised, “Listen, Football Head. Bob may not be much of a dad—or a husband, for that matter—but he _does_ make up for it in business, AND he always makes sure there’s food on the table…well, he provides the money for it, at least. We only have food on the table whenever Miriam manages to remember to actually BUY it AND bring it home. But what Bob said earlier was true. Ever since he found out that Sheck and his goon were going to double-cross him and run him out of town, leaving him penniless instead of becoming stinking rich, he’s become much more careful when dealing with his business partners. And no, we’re _not_ in any danger of losing the house or the car. Once the cell phone antennas go up and we start charging the cell companies rent, we’re gonna be raking in dough BIG TIME.”

     The blonde boy took out his notebook and sadly added another note against his dream. “I guess that settles that, then.”

     “Is that why you’re been chewing everyone’s head off? You dreamed our family was practically homeless, and it made you THAT upset?”

     He closed the notebook. “No. The trouble with the beeper store was only part of a much larger dream.” He sighed and looked toward the distance, trying to remember, “A much larger dream…”

     After a few moments, Gerald looked at the two and asked, “So now what?”

     Arnold looked at all his notes, flipped through the pages for a moment, and replied, “There’s not much else I can remember right now…” He looked at the sun as it slowly moved toward the western skyline. “Come on, you three, let’s just go home. It _is_ our summer vacation after all.”

     “Yeah, my folks will wonder what has happened to me if I don’t get home by now,” said the African-American. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

     “Sure.” The boys did their secret handshake, and the two parted ways.

     “And I’ll see you later, Helga,” said Arnold, waving to her.

     “Sure, I guess I’ll just see you when I’ll see you, Football Head.”

     Though as Gerald walked out of earshot, and Arnold started on his way back to Sunset Arms, he said, “You don’t have to stalk me anymore, Helga. If you want to walk with me back to my house, you can just say so.”

     Helga blanched again, realising she had been very much found out. “Uh…well…sure, _Arnoldo_. Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you and make sure you don’t beat up anyone else to a pulp, right?”

     He just grinned in resignation, “Whatever you say, Helga.”

 

     The two walked in silence back to Sunset Arms.

 

* * *

 

 

_Author’s note: Helga had a cell phone in “The Little Pink Book”, Season 1._


	7. Chapter Five: Researching Real Life

**FIVE – RESEARCHING REAL LIFE**

 

 

     “You’ll be okay walking home?” asked Arnold as they reached the stoop of Sunset Arms, and both placed a hand on each banister.

     “Sure, Football Head, thanks for asking. And I’m glad you calmed down. This…aggressive you just isn’t becoming of you.”

     He sighed, “No, it isn’t. I’m sorry for this morning, it…it wasn’t _me_ , okay?”

     She wanted to hug him, to throw her arms around him and plead forgiveness, to say all was forgiven and forgotten and then plant her lips on his— “Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly help in _not_ wearing out your patience, Arnold. You…you didn’t need me making things worse for you. I’m…I’m……” Helga took a deep breath, stiffened, and forced her words out of her mouth, “I’m…ssssssssssorry, okay? I’ll…I’ll be more careful the next time I decide to annoy you,” she chuckled, as did the boy. “I once heard a saying: ‘Beware the rage of the patient man’. And well, we all experienced that saying first hand today. But seriously, Arnold. I’ll…I’ll try to tone things down with you. And maybe…maybe you’ll share with us the rest of your dream, once you remember it all, okay?”

     He breathed deeply, “Of course, Helga. I’ll be sure to let you know all about it.” The girl nodded and turned to leave, though she desperately wanted to kiss him good night, and she had taken a few steps away when he called out, “By the way, watch out for the ninth rung in the fire escape. It’s coming loose, and it needs to be welded back to the frame.”

 

     Helga stiffened again.

 

     _He knows._

_Doi! Of COURSE he knows!!! He still remembers what I said to him on that rooftop about me stalking him!!!_

 

     She didn’t reply, and instead started running back to her house, or to the corner of the block, where she ducked out of sight.

 

     Arnold smirked at the girl whom he knew had quite a bit of affection for him, and walked up to his door. He opened it and waited for the stray animals to rush out, including Abner—

 

     _Abner._

_Abner?_

 

     “Hey, Shortman, you’re home a bit late. Were you with your friends at the park?” asked his grandfather.

     Arnold snapped out of his sudden trance, and replied, “Uh, no, Grandpa, I was just walking around with some friends.”

     Abner, meanwhile, had run back up the stoop, having noticed that his owner had not gone inside yet, and stood in front of the boy, expecting an ear or chin scratch.

 

     Arnold looked at the midget pig, and looked at him, and looked at him, and looked at him…

 

     Another rush of memories caused the boy to rush inside, ignoring his pet pig, almost shoving his grandfather aside.

     “Arnold? What—?” Phil was quite shocked when his grandson suddenly appeared to get upset, to the point of ignoring his beloved pig as he ran to the dining room.

     There, the blonde child sat and began to furiously write down the part of his dream that included Abner, and once again, with each line he jotted down, his anger and frustration crept back on him more and more.

 

     _Abner stowed away on a COMMERCIAL flight…a commercial INTERNATIONAL flight…of an AMERICAN airline…and he managed to sit in FIRST CLASS…he got captured with the rest of the class…he escaped the compound…walked through the jungle…found his way to the city…found his way to the airport…found a plane that was leaving for the U.S. JUST BEFORE IT TOOK OFF…and it happened to be the RIGHT plane headed in the RIGHT direction…found his way to Hillwood…found his way across town to Sunset Arms…and got help…all within 24 hours???_

 

     “Is that…could it…could it happen?” he asked himself.

     Only one way to find out.

     He stood and headed to his room.

     As he walked through the hallway on the second floor, just as he passed the shelf that held one of the landline’s extensions, Suzie Kokoshka blocked his path, obviously relieved to finally see him. “Oh, Arnold, you’re finally here! I’ve been waiting for you to get home because I have a really, _really_ big problem at work, and I _know_ you can help me, the same way you’ve helped the other boarders before.”

     Arnold felt the familiar rage from this morning crawl up his arms and into his hands, which paled as he gripped the shelf that held the phone.

     “You see, Arnold, my boss is getting REALLY annoying because there’s this new hire that he seems to be venting his aggression on. Now, this new hire hasn’t done anything wrong, and I don’t know if my boss is just getting on her case in order to see if she can handle—”

     “Suzie,” he practically growled.

     “Huh? Yes, Arnold?” the woman wondered why he interrupted her explanation; he had certainly never done that to her before.

     The boy looked up with hooded eyes at the adult, took a deep breath, and used all of his self-control to avoid raising his voice, “Suzie, are…are you aware of what you’re doing? You’re asking ME for advice for a situation in your department store? Shouldn’t…” Breathe. _Breathe_. “Shouldn’t…you be asking an _adult_ for advice of that kind? I mean…does it really make sense for you to ask a _nine-year-old_ for advice on something so delicate?”

     The orange-haired woman looked down at the child in front of her, speechless.

     “Yeah, I thought so. Honestly, Suzie, please, I’m sure you can find a responsible adult who can give you much better advice than I ever could. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have research to do.”

     “Huh? What? Research?” she asked, suddenly snapping out of her shock. “What research, Arnold? Didn’t your summer vacation start today?”

     The boy ignored her questions, walked up to his room, and closed the door.

 

     At the opposite end of the hallway, having witnessed the entire exchange, Phil and Gertie, holding hands, looked with worry at their grandson, and then at each other.

 

* * *

 

 

     Up in his room, Arnold grabbed the phone next to his couch and set it on the desk. There, he opened a very thick book with yellow pages, and next to it he placed his open dream journal. Sitting down, he began his work:

 

     “A…Airlines…Airlines…” He began calling the numbers listed.

     “Hello, I would like to know if you have any flights to San Lorenzo…yes, the capital city…uh…” He looked up at his cork board on the wall in front of him. “…Puerto de Santa Clara…”

     “…no direct flights, I understand. So what options are available…?”

     “…O’Hare…then either LAX, Houston, Atlanta, or Miami…then Guatemala City…and change to a local airline for the San Lorenzo Airport…that’s a lot of stops.”

     “…now, for the return flight, it would be the same…”

     “…no direct flights to the U.S., it’s either Guatemala City, Cancun, or Havana, and then the same stops in the U.S.…”

     “…what are the take-off times you have available for this summer? Yes…okay…”

     “…and for the return flights…oh, return _flight_ from the San Lorenzo airport…”

     “…it only has two outgoing flights per day? Okay…”

     “…yes, thank you for the information. It has been…” he sighed, dismayed that he couldn’t get angry with an airline worker who had no idea what he was going through. “It has been very helpful for me. Yes, have a good evening, too.”

 

     The boy looked up and saw that the sky had turned red, indicating just how long he had been on the phone. He looked down at his notes again, at all the numbers, times, and dates given by the operators, and said, “And now, here comes the REAL work.”

 

     He added up the flight times, layover times, and times between each take off from the same airport. He was sure to add the time it would take for the bus to take them to the actual airport, after all, O’Hare wasn’t exactly around the corner.

 

     And he added…

     And he added…

     And he added some more…

 

     Finally, he sat back, staring at the multiple answers that all his research had added up to.

 

     _In the best case scenario, the whole trip, from the middle of the jungle to Sunset Arms, would take twelve hours with two stops, and the worst case scenario it would take thirty-six hours with four stops, and if Abner had been just five minutes late, he would have needed to wait NINETEEN HOURS for the next plane…then get off in the RIGHT stops, get off at O’Hare, take the RIGHT bus to Hillwood, find his way from the bus depot to Sunset Arms…and hope that my grandparents would know why he was there…_

 

     He slammed shut his notebook and stood, enraged once more.

 

     While he knew his pet pig was fairly intelligent, even more than some dogs, there was no way he would have been able to make it back home so soon, not with all those variables on the way. And how would he have got past security? How could any security worker NOT see a pig trying to stow away on a plane???

 

     “Arnold, dinner is ready! Are you going to come down?” asked his grandfather from behind his door.

     The boy rubbed his face in defeat, sighed, and replied, not bothering to open his door. “No…no, Grandpa, I’m…I’m not hungry right now. I’ll…I’ll see you in the morning.”

     “Are you sure? Your grandma is making some good chow right now! And if you don’t come down, Kokoshka is going to get all smug eating your dinner!!!”

     “ _I’ll see you in the morning, Grandpa. Good night_ ,” he trembled, again pushing down his desire to shout to the four winds.

     “Okay, but you’re missing out on plenty. Have a good night, Arnold…and please, sleep well.” Phil’s pleading seemed to calm down the boy somewhat, and taking a deep breath, he sat on his bed.

 

     _Defeated._

 

     Suddenly feeling very tired, he decided to call it a day and get ready for bed. He pulled off his blue sweater—

 

     _The cameras._

_The footage._

_The material needed for Helga’s video presentation…_

 

     Now suddenly feeling very paranoid, the blonde boy stood and began searching all over his room for any tell-tale round lens that would indicate that a camera was there; he even pulled out a flashlight to see if he could get a reflection off any lens. He flashed the light all over his desk, his shelves, his closet, and he even pulled open his couch to see if anything had been hidden in the space between the wall—

 

     _And he found nothing._

 

     Disappointed, yet relieved, he flopped back on his bed.

 

     _Of course, all those cameras would be too expensive for Helga to afford, and it’s not like she’s getting a huge allowance now to even bother buying ONE…_

_…one…_

_…she only needed ONE…_

 

     Clutching his flashlight and scrambling to his feet, he dashed up his ladder to the skylight, opened the glass pane, and stepped out to the roof of Sunset Arms. The air hadn’t cooled down that much that evening, though with the sun just approaching the western horizon, he still had enough light to look for anything suspicious around his skylight, especially the panes that faced his bed below.

 

     _And he found nothing._

 

     Defeated once more, he leaned back on the glass and looked up at the stars as they slowly appeared on the darkening sky above him.

     He wasn’t sure how to feel at this point, after all, it would have been quite a shock for him to find a camera pointing down at his bed and know that Helga had footage of him dressing and undressing—plenty of times being totally _naked_ —which would have been creepy on its own, but _not_ finding anything just proved that Helga’s video project presentation, and the party held in this very roof, filled with guests…

 

     _…guests…_

_…all those people he had helped this past year…_

_…Mister Hyunh’s daughter, Dino Spumoni, Coach Wittenberg and his wife, his son Tucker…_

_…wait, whatever happened to Tucker? He never showed up in school after that day, not even for the synchronised swimming competition…_

_…where did he go after that? Is he getting home-schooled or something?_

_…hold it…RUTH MCDOUGAL WAS THERE, TOO???_

 

     He had just seen a glimpse of her among the crowd of friends and acquaintances, but yes, he knew that brace-filled smile anywhere.

 

     _Why was she there? Why would Helga bother inviting her, and…and…_

_Lockjaw? How did they ever find him and lift him to the roof?_

 

     He pushed away from his skylight and looked at his roof, completely devoid of people save for himself. Supposedly, one week after the last day of school, Helga managed to complete the video documentary of himself, and she also managed to get on this roof just about everyone he had helped this past year, and it was a wonderful party, very emotional for him, too…

 

     _…and totally in his head._

 

     Again, too many variables, too many inconsistencies.

 

     _And why didn’t he bother asking Tucker where he had been all this time, if he was right there in front of him???_

 

     The hole in his chest and the knot in his throat returned. No contest, no documentary, no prize, no trip…

 

     _…no finding his parents…_

 

     He rubbed his head again with both hands.

 

     _It had all been too good to be true._

 

     “It was all too good to be true,” he repeated himself out loud. “A perfect setup, a perfect outcome, the best ending I hoped for…and it was all a dream. I just hope it doesn’t repeat itself tonight.” With that, he walked back to the open pane, but before he climbed down, he called out toward the fire escape ladder. “Good night, Helga. I hope you have better dreams than I do,” and he shut the pane.

 

     Hiding just below the rampart, Helga was grabbing the ladder tightly, surprised once again that Arnold had known where she was. How much did he know of what she saw just now? Why didn’t he call her out before? And what was he looking for all around his skylight?

     The blonde girl climbed up on the roof, making sure she stayed away from the skylight and Arnold’s field of vision, as the night sky wasn’t dark enough yet to hide her from his eyes, unless he was sleeping sideways or face down.

     She sat on the rampart and pulled out her cell phone, pressing a quick-dial button. Moments later, she spoke, “Hi, Phoebe? Thanks for your quick thinking this afternoon, I would have never thought of telling the others that the authorities were on their way and that everyone would get caught if they didn’t leave right there. The last thing I need is competition from the other girls in class, much less the OLDER girls who saw what happened today…yes, yes, I know, I owe you BIG TIME, don’t worry, I’ll do what I can to make it up to you. And for once I’m glad you only have eyes for Tall Hair Boy right now…yes, I know you do, don’t deny it, doi! Now, listen, speaking of Tall Hair Boy, I need you to call him right now. I’m still at Arnold’s, and I didn’t like what I saw just now, not one bit…look, just call Geraldo and tell him to meet you at Sunset Arms tomorrow morning…yes, Arnold is going to need a bit more of our help…no, I don’t know how much more. Whatever he dreamed last night has come back with a vengeance, and it looks like we’re going to be the ones who are going to have to help him, because no one else is doing so…yes…yes, thank you, Phoebe, I couldn’t ask for a better friend than you…yes, good night, and see you here tomorrow morning. Bye.”

     Helga shut off her phone, tucked it away in her pink jumper, and climbed down the fire escape.

     Just before her head ducked below the rampart, she looked at the now dark skylight, and whispered, “Good night, my sweet prince.”

 

     With that, the girl disappeared into the night as she headed back to her house.

 

* * *

 

 

_Author’s note: While most of the fandom has placed Hillwood in Washington State or even New York State, in “Veterans’ Day”, the car trip from Hillwood to Washington, D.C. took nineteen hours, placing Hillwood somewhat west of Chicago. Since Veterans’ Day is a real holiday and Washington D.C. is a real place, I’m taking that episode as the official canon of Hillwood’s location. But even if it was in Washington State and the plane left from Seattle or Portland, or in New York and the plane left from JFK, the flight to San Lorenzo would have still needed to have a minimum of two stops._


	8. Chapter 6: It's A Big Ocean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More research on Lockjaw.

**SIX – IT’S A BIG OCEAN**

 

 

     Fortunately for Arnold, he wasn’t tortured by a repeat of the dream he had the night before. The following morning, the second day of his summer vacation, he woke up, and mechanically showered, got dressed, and walked downstairs for breakfast.

     None of the boarders spoke to him, not even his grandparents. Instead, all the adults eyed the boy with slight wariness and even a bit of disappointment. Suzie didn’t even want to look at him; his curt reply from yesterday left her somewhat ashamed at her own lack of initiative.

     Phil and Gertie looked at their grandson with worry; he just served himself and ate in silence, not speaking to anyone, not greeting anyone, almost not acknowledging anyone in the kitchen or dining room. His gaze was fixed on something in front of him, and he was obviously deep in thought—

     Suddenly Arnold straightened up, staring at the refrigerator.

 

     _On the door of the refrigerator was a magnet shaped like a sea turtle, one of the mementos he got from the field trip to the aquarium several months ago._

 

     And he realised his research wasn’t over quite just yet.

 

     Standing from the breakfast table, he walked back upstairs to the phone in the hallway. Pulling out the Yellow Pages behind the handset, he looked for a phone number, dialled, and waited.

 

     And waited…

     And waited…

     And blinked when he suddenly got a recorded message: _“We’re sorry. The number you have dialled is no longer in service. Please check your number and try your call again.”_

 

     Did he dial correctly?

 

     Checking the number listed, he dialled again, slowly and carefully this time.

 

     And he waited…

     And waited…

     And wait—

 

     _“We’re sorry. The number you have dialled is no longer in service. Please check your number and try your call again.”_

 

     “That’s really strange…”

     “What is?”

     Arnold suddenly turned and saw Ernie standing beside him. “Oh, good morning, Mister Potts.”

     “Are you going to take long? I need to use the phone, too.”

     The boy sighed, “I guess I’m done. I was trying to call the city aquarium, but it looks like their phone isn’t working.”

     “Huh? THIS city aquarium?” asked the short and stout construction worker.

     The child turned to him, “Yes, our school went there on a field trip a few months ago. I was hoping to get some information—”

     “Arnold, I guess no one told you the news! The city aquarium got shut down three weeks ago!”

     “Huh?” Now it was the boy’s turn to be in total surprise.

     “Sure! That place was so run down, and had so little security, it got vandalised one too many times. One worker got mauled by a shark, and one of their main attractions—a sea turtle, I think—got stolen!!! Can you believe that???”

     Arnold tried not to flinch. He was relieved that several months ago the aquarium’s security cameras were so old and run down that they didn’t work properly to detect his grandmother and him extracting Lockjaw and driving away with him, not to mention that he was glad no one asked where they had gone for nearly a day and a half, which was how long it took them to drive from Wisconsin to Washington State, and back. _It was really neat watching Lockjaw swimming off into the sunset…_

     “Probably the best thing that happened to it anyway,” Mr. Potts interrupted his reminiscing. “I hear its shell was full of graffiti! And since it cost too much money to fix everything, the aquarium got shut down and it’s going to be demolished so a new one can be built, a much better one and with better security and safety features. And guess who’s going to demolish it???” he asked with a huge grin and raised victorious fists.

     Arnold blinked. “You’re going to demolish the aquarium?”

     “Sure! It’s going down in two weeks! Wanna be there and push the button?”

     The blonde boy stood in thought for a moment, slumped his shoulders slightly, and replied, “I guess…it’s not like I’ll be going on any overseas trip this summer. Thanks, Mister Potts, I’ll be there…I’m sure it’s going to be fun…” he trailed off, leaving the smiling man alone to make the phone calls he needed.

 

     “…but now I guess I’m going to need an encyclopædia…” he added to himself.

 

     Going back to the living room, he searched for the book in question, and looked up the entry for sea turtles.

 

     And he read…

     …and read…

     …and read…

 

     _Could Helga have found Lockjaw and brought him back here?_

 

     The answers to his doubts and questions, unfortunately, brought back his anger and frustration with a vengeance:

 

     _…Galapagos TORTOISES are LAND turtles and don’t have flippers…wow, the aquarium had it wrong all these years!!!_

_…any Galapagos SEA turtle…?_

_…it was a male turtle, after we released him in the ocean, he would have swum south, all the way to the Galapagos islands near South America…_

 

     And then his heart sank.

 

     AGAIN.

 

     _…only FEMALE turtles return to the beach they were born in to lay their eggs in the sand…_

_…how would Helga…how would ANYONE be able to find a_ male _turtle in the middle of the ocean, especially AFTER we erased all the graffiti from his shell, and then bring him back here for a party???_

 

     The hole in his chest expanded exponentially, and unable to do anything else, Arnold slammed the book shut, grabbed his notebook, and stomped back upstairs to his room.

     There, he dropped his notebook on his desk, and stared with defeat at the corkboard on the wall, where he had pinned pictures of his parents, newspaper articles about San Lorenzo, the map he found in his father’s journal, and some reports published by Helpers for Humanity, the organization his parents worked for.

 

     And they all practically mocked him, given the answers he found to his dream:

 

     _No contest._

_No trip._

_No trek._

_No parents._

_Nothing._

 

     He was about to tear off the entire board and throw it to the trash, but just as he reached it, he noticed a footnote on one of the Helpers for Humanity reports.

 

     Like Big Bob’s Beepers, it had a custom letterhead…

 

     _…and a FOOTNOTE…_

 

     Tearing the page off his board, he took a closer look at it, and saw that the footnote included several addresses and phone numbers of the organization: of their headquarters in Washington D.C., and of their chapters in New York, Dallas, Los Angeles, Seattle, Miami…

 

     _…and CHICAGO…_

 

     He ran to his phone and dialled.

 

_Time to do more fieldwork._

 

     “Helpers for Humanity, Chicago Chapter, good morning, how may I help you?” asked a woman.

     “Hello. I would like to know if Helpers for Humanity has a chapter in Hillwood, Wisconsin.”

     “Yes, we do. Would you like the address and phone number?”

     “Yes, please.” Arnold scrambled to get his notebook and pencil, and hastily wrote down the information. “Okay, thank you, have a nice day,” he said hurriedly, not bothering to get a response from the woman. He then stared at the address he had just written down, and huffed, “Time to get some FACTS myself.”

 

     The boy ran down the stairs, but just as he turned to go to the front door, he had to stop as his grandfather was blocking his path.

     “Whoa, there, Shortman! Where are you off to in such a hurry? Baseball game, football game, sneaking off to the city pool?” he winked.

     The boy glared at his elder, ignoring the attempt to tease him, and with hooded eyes, snarled, “I’m going to where YOU should have gone to in the first place, FOR THE LAST SIX YEARS!!!” He swung open the front door, shoving all the stray animals out of the way, not allowing them to stampede as they normally did, and leaving them in a state of shock similar to Phil’s at this point.

     The elder frowned and decided to get some answers himself, so he turned to go back upstairs—

     “He called Helpers for Humanity,” said Gertie, blocking his path, her usual zaniness uncharacteristically gone as she looked at her husband with worry. “I overheard.”

     Phil calmed down and shook his head. “Looks like things came to a head for Arnold, if that dream of his has him so hot and bothered.”

     His wife frowned, “And why wouldn’t that happen? Did you expect him to live the rest of his life as it has been all along until now?” She pointed an angry finger at him, “YOU were the one who demanded that he know nothing!!!”

     Angry arms waved about. “Well, EXCUSE ME for trying to just let him be a kid and not worry! Not worry for OUR SON and daughter-in-law!!!”

     She stepped to his face. “OUR SON is HIS FATHER, remember, Popsicle Chin? It would be impossible for him not to worry, even with me distracting him all year long by acting crazy!!! But now, nothing we’ve done before will work anymore! He may not have been in the loop before, but now you can very much see that he WANTS to be in the loop now, so by Lockjaw, Phil, it’s darned time we put him in the loop! He’s ready, and you know he’s ready.”

     The old man rubbed his forehead with his right hand, and sighed, “Pookie…maybe…maybe you’re right. He’s old enough, so…I guess it’s time.”

 

     The two elders turned and walked to the hallway phone, but just as Phil reached for it, the device suddenly rang, startling both. They looked at each other in surprise and wonder for a moment, until Phil finally grabbed the phone and answered, “Sunset Arms, no kids, pets okay, how may I help you…? Oh, hello!!! Wow, speak of the devil, we were just about to call you…! You have…? Here…? Hey, perfect!!! We’ll be waiting…! You bet, see you in a bit!!!”

     The man hung up, turned to his wife, and stated, “It’s time.”

     “Yes, it’s time,” she replied.


	9. Chapter 7: Expert Opinions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few Easter eggs here.

**SEVEN – EXPERT OPINIONS**

 

 

     Helga, Phoebe, and Gerald were a bit surprised when Arnold opened the door and no animals ran out before him. And Arnold was surprised when he saw his three friends standing at the bottom of his stoop.

     For a moment they just looked at each other, until Arnold asked, “What?”

     Gerald replied, “Arnold, my main man, we all know you’re goin’ through a very rough time, after all, no one can beat Wolfgang to a pulp and be fine afterward.”

     “That dream you had obviously wasn’t a normal dream, right?” asked the Asian-American girl. “It’s caused you to do interviews and do research here and there, it’s worn down your patience, it’s stopped you from giving advice—which we know you like to do—but most of all, it’s weighing heavily on you.”

     “Football Head, we…we’re your friends, okay? Yes, even me, even if I don’t show it very often. And we’ve thought that, after all the times you’ve helped us, both kids and adults, maybe it’s time we help you.”

     “So this is an intervention, or what?” asked the blonde boy, slightly annoyed at their interruption of his research.

     The blonde girl laughed, “No, nothing that extreme. We just want you to tell us more about this dream of yours, and why it’s got you so angry and…so out of sorts.”

     Arnold sighed again as he walked down to the sidewalk. “I…I guess you’re right. You’re my closest friends after all, so I suppose you deserve to know. But we’ll talk as we go along.”

     “That’s my main man!” smiled Gerald. “Um…where are we goin’?”

     The “superninja” turned and glared at Sunset Arms. “Somewhere my grandparents should have gone to, every day, for the past six years.” 

* * *

     The bus ride was a particularly sombre one, given the theme of the dream. The four were sitting on the back row, Phoebe nearest the back door, then Helga, Arnold, and Gerald.

     Arnold recounted as best as he could what he had dreamed two nights ago: “It was horrible from the beginning. I was dreaming in my dream—yes, Gerald, I hate that movie now—that I went by myself to San Lorenzo, and…and I found my parents, but no sooner had I found them when Eduardo—my parents’ friend—suddenly showed up in his biplane and asked them to go on ‘one final mission’.” The others listened in total silence, feeling empathy for their friend and his plight. “Before I could even get close to them, he threw down a rope ladder, they climbed up, and they flew off. I woke up in my dream, and then it continued more or less normally, and it was the last day of school…of the fifth grade, and it wasn’t until I woke up for real when I realised I had skipped a whole year. But in the last day of school, Mister Simmons announced a video report contest, and the winner would have his whole class go on a trip to San Lorenzo. At first, Gerald and I tried doing some stuff on our own, but everything kept ending up in a disaster, until Helga decided to step in and do a documentary of ME…with footage she had stored in the ‘basement’ of her father’s store.” The girl in question raised half of her eyebrow as she struggled to keep her whole body in check and not swoon at the thought of her beloved dreaming about _her_. “When you finished and submitted the video, you held a huge party on the roof of Sunset Arms, and everyone I had helped in the past year was there—including Lockjaw the sea turtle—because it turned out that you had won the contest, and the trip. The next thing I knew was that we were at the airport, and we were ready to go, but oddly enough, only Olga was there as chaperone, and no one noticed Abner stowing away on a handbag…hold on, I think we’re here.”

     The others looked up and saw that the bus was approaching a large white house, which stood out from the rest of the other houses in the block. It had no stoop or front yard; it was just a wide five-story building with lots of windows, and a large set of double glass doors at the entrance.

     Arnold signalled the bus to stop, and continued as they climbed out, “Looking back, I see a few things were mixed up. Gerald, remember Harold and his cat? He was outside his house when he thought the police were going to arrest him, right?”

     His friend laughed. “Yeah, I remember that.”

     “Well, in my dream, he wasn’t in front of his house; he was in front of _mine_. Also, Eugene had a broken arm and leg one minute, but then he was perfectly fine the next, in fact, he went with us on the trip perfectly fine instead of waiting for his bones to knit, and…and…” He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, and the others stopped as well. “Gerald, did we ever help Ruth McDougal?”

     At the sound of her name, Helga clenched her fists.

     “Ruth McDougal? No, man, I don’t think you ever did her any favours…unless you count her gettin’ chummy with that busboy from that restaurant you invited her to.”

     “That’s a stretch, but still, Helga invited her, and somehow someone found Lockjaw—who right now is somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean—and he was there, too…and you somehow managed to find Tucker, Helga! Say, does anyone know what happened to him?”

     The four looked at each other, but after several seconds, they could only shrug. Helga spoke, “I don’t think anyone knows what happened to him, but concerning Ruth, no, I wouldn’t have invited her, not after the way you say she treated you, Football Head. And _Lockjaw_??? Do any of us have friends who are fishermen?”

     “Obviously not, Helga,” said Phoebe. “So finding Lockjaw would be quite impossible for just about any fisherman, or even an oceanographer, much less _us_.”

     “Still, Football Head, those contest judges in your dream must have had very low expectations, I mean, I have no idea how to edit videos!”

     Arnold continued, “Well, that’s just it, Helga, you did it in…”

 

     He stopped again.

 

     “What?” asked the blonde girl.

 

     “Helga, do you have a portable computer? I think they’re called ‘notebooks’…I’m not sure…”

     “Yes, they’re officially termed ‘notebooks’,” smiled Phoebe.

     The taller girl crossed her arms and scoffed again. “Are you kidding me, Football Head? Those things cost like a bazillion dollars!!! I mean, Bob may be a good salesman, but he’s not THAT good, or not yet, not that I actually NEED a portable computer, though.”

     Arnold insisted, “Do you have any video cameras? Any video recorders?”

     “Just one, and it’s a bit bulky. Bob probably won’t get another one until the one we have falls apart…did I have lots of video equipment in your dream?” she asked rather curiously.

     More head rubbing, “Not only that, you had a huge video vault right under your dad’s store. It was practically a library, and you had a huge console and lots of computers to help you edit…but for some reason you had all that even though the store was about to go out of business.”

     “A video vault?” Her fists went to her hips. “Seriously? Crimeny, Football Head! What did you have for dinner the night before that dream?”

     Arnold facepalmed. “…pizza…”

     “Well, that explains a lot,” said Phoebe, cleaning her glasses.

     Helga continued, “And what would I be doing with a video vault that size? I’m no video aficionado or anything like that, doi!”

 

     Arnold looked at her, suddenly remembering the shrine she had in the store, and then everything she confessed on top of the FTI building. He knew she was obsessed with him, so he wouldn’t put it past her to also try to get video footage of his every waking moment, even from “security cameras”, as she had claimed in his dream, but what he had seen was an obvious exaggeration…

 

_…that, or he liked the attention she was giving him—_

 

     “Now what? Crimeny, Football Head, stop spacing out!” She waved angry palms at him. “You look creepy like that!!!”

     He shook his head. “Sorry, Helga, I was just trying to remember who else was at that party…but we’ll get back to that later. Right now, we’re here.”

     “And where is ‘here’, Football Head?”

     Phoebe answered before he could, “Helpers for Humanity, Hillwood Chapter, established 1980.”

     They all turned and saw that she was reading a plaque on the wall next to the front door.

     “Thank you, _World Encyclopædia_ ,” said Helga with an eyeroll.

     The dark-skinned boy looked at the building and asked, “Are these the people your parents worked for?”

     Arnold huffed and squared his small shoulders. “Yes. And it’s about time I got some answers myself…and find out just why my grandparents never bothered to come here all this time.”

 

     The four went inside and saw a receptionist sitting at her desk, typing at a bulky monochrome computer monitor. The white dark-haired woman had a simple light blue polo shirt with the initials “HfH” stitched in yellow on the front pocket. When the children entered, she looked up from her computer and greeted them, “Hello, welcome to Helpers for Humanity, Hillwood Chapter. How may I help you?”

     Arnold went straight to the point. He walked up to the desk and said, “We’re here to get all the information you have on Miles and Stella Shortman…um…if you please,” he added sheepishly, having surprised himself at his momentary rudeness.

     “Miles and Stella Shortman? And who might you be, young man?” The woman wasn’t confrontational, but her tone indicated that she wasn’t exactly a throw pillow.

     The boy squared his shoulders, removed his small cap, and stated, “I’m Arnold Phillip Shortman, their son.” He placed his bus pass on the desk, the only identification he had. As the receptionist looked at it, he added, “Both of them went to San Lorenzo six years ago on a medical mission…and…nothing has been heard from them since…or…nothing that I know of,” he sighed, lowering his head.

     The woman, however, widened her eyes as soon as she saw the bus pass. She suddenly seemed more alert and stated, “Oh, oh! P-please, step into the conference room, right inside that door there,” she pointed to a dark wood door down the hallway, “and wait a little bit. We’ll help you out with everything we can, okay, Arnold?”

     He looked at her with slight surprise, and then turned to his friends, who also didn’t expect anyone to have that kind of reaction. “Okay, we’ll go in there and wait.”

     The four children entered through the indicated door, and as soon as they closed it, the receptionist pressed a button on the intercom. “Michelle!!!”

     Another woman replied through the machine, “Yes?”

     “Michelle! Miles and Stella’s son is here!”

     “What? You mean…Arnold?”

     “Yes! He’s waiting for you in the meeting room!”

     There was a long pause, and Michelle said, “Hold all my calls and move down all my meetings until we finish, please. I don’t know how long we’re going to take with this.”

     “Will do. And…tell him we are all proud of his parents.”

     “I’ll do that. Thanks.” 

* * *

      The meeting room was precisely that, a large windowless white room with a long rectangular dark wood table and dark wood leather-padded chairs. A retractable video screen hung from one end of the room, and on the opposite side was an old-fashioned overhead transparencies projector. The four kids sat at the middle of the table in the same arrangement they had in the bus, and waited.

     “Crimeny, I hope we don’t have to wait HOURS for someone to talk to us. I hear that some organizations are full of red tape and—”

     Another woman entered the room, silencing the blonde girl and disproving her theory. She was Hispanic, about Principal Wartz’s age, with dark skin, and dark hair with grey accents, and she also wore a light blue Helpers for Humanity shirt and black pants, and on her right hand she held several yellow folders, thick with documents. She looked at the children, and then focused on the blonde boy sitting in front of her. “Are you…Arnold Phillip Shortman?” she asked as if she was meeting a celebrity.

     He wondered why she seemed so eager to meet him. He stood and replied, “Yes, I’m Arnold, and these are my friends, Helga, Phoebe, and Gerald. We’re here for—”

     “Information about your parents,” she interrupted, sitting in front of him. “I’m Michelle Sandoval, head of the Hillwood Chapter of Helpers for Humanity.” The two leaned forward to shake hands. “And your parents are Miles and Stella Shortman, right?”

     “Yes…” He eyed all the documents she placed between them. “Is all that information about them? Because I have not received anything from them in the last six years. I mean…” his exasperation surfaced again, “…has no one ever come here and asked anything about them? No one has bothered to call and ask about where they might be?”

     Two hands on his shoulders, one from Helga and one from Gerald, made him realise that he was slowly standing up, raising his voice, and stiffening in anger. He took a deep breath and sat down again, waiting for an answer.

     “I understand your frustration, Arnold, after all, your parents have been missing for the past six years in a foreign country. But as for your claim that no one has bothered to ask for them, you should know that your grandparents come here just about every week, when you’re in school, and during the summer they come mostly at night, and every time they come here they ask the same thing you just did: if we have heard anything from their son and daughter-in-law—your parents.”

     Here, Arnold’s anger and exasperation seemed to be poked with a pin, and his whole demeanour deflated.

 

     He felt really ashamed now, having assumed that he was the only one who worried about his parents.

 

     Michelle continued, “Ever since they left six years ago, your grandparents haven’t stopped asking for them. And every time they come here, I have to look at their distraught faces when I tell them that we still do not have any news from them. And now I have to break your heart, too, Arnold. I’m sorry, but as much as we press the San Lorenzo chapter for _any_ news, we simply don’t have anything.”

     The blonde boy lowered his head a bit more. “I…I see. When…when did you last see them, Miss Sandoval?”

     “Six years ago, like you said. I saw them at the airport when they left, and kept in touch until their plane got lost in the jungle of San Lorenzo. After that, there has been nothing.”

     He had to force himself to ask this. He didn’t want to, but it would be a step toward closure. “And…and they were never found again? The plane was never found, either?”

     She sat back. “San Lorenzan authorities called off the search one year after they disappeared. It’s strange, really, it’s as if the jungle just swallowed them up.”

 

     _Or…maybe someone wanted them to disappear…_

 

     His anger swelled once again, “There was no sign of foul play? Any sign that this might have been the work of La Sombra???”

     The woman eyed him, “La…Sombra?”

     “Yes!!! You know, a river pirate, smuggler, thief of ancient treasures?”

     She looked at him for a moment, deep in thought, and suddenly she lit up, “Oh! You mean…” She opened a folder and searched. “You mean Lázaro Eduardo ‘Lalo’ Somoza Bravo—”

 

     Arnold shivered when he heard that La Sombra’s second real name was “Eduardo”.

 

     “You’re right, he’s a river pirate, but as for the rest, he’s more of a wanna-be treasure hunter. To _try_ to impose fear on those around him, he has claimed to be a cousin of the late Nicaraguan dictator Anastasio Somoza García. Of course, that’s completely false, given that Somoza García’s family has denied any kinship, as they want nothing to do with that petty thief. It’s just that ‘Somoza’ is a rather common last name in Latin America.”

     The blonde boy asked with a very definitely frightened tone, one that not even his friends had heard until now, “Is…is the name ‘Eduardo’ also rather common?”

     Michelle wasn’t sure why the boy was so scared, but she replied, “Why, yes it is. Why do you ask?”

     His fright seemed to melt slightly. “I…I was just wondering. My parents had a friend who was also named ‘Eduardo’…has he mentioned—?”

     “We’ll get to him in a minute, Arnold,” she interrupted. “Now, Lázaro Somoza Bravo never made it past petty thief. Sure, he tried to set up a smuggling ring, but he never went beyond the national level, because the San Lorenzan government and many archaeological organizations kept plenty of tabs on him. And San Lorenzo is BIG on archaeology right now, given that it’s one of their biggest sources of tourism—and revenue—so it was in their best interest to catch Lázaro Somoza Bravo ‘La Sombra’. Still, it wasn’t until he tried to expand his ring internationally AND he moved into international drug dealing—not to mention murder—again, trying to instil fear on those around him—though he started by killing his own henchmen for disagreeing with him on trivialities—that he was finally arrested four years ago—betrayed by his own henchmen, too—and charged with smuggling drugs and archaeological treasures, and, I think, five counts of murder. He was sentenced to thirty years in prison, and he’s currently in a maximum-security prison in San Lorenzo. And as we speak, the DEA and the FBI here are investigating him for international drug smuggling, so if those charges are true, once he finishes his sentence in San Lorenzo, he’ll be extradited to America and face perhaps another twenty years in prison here.”

     That seemed to finally calm down the boy with the wide head. “So then…he won’t be causing any more problems to anyone.” He leaned forward slightly. “Did…do you know if he ever mentioned my parents?”

     “By name? It’s not likely. Your parents weren’t the only Americans he gave trouble to. He also assaulted and robbed archaeologists from Mexico, Guatemala, San Lorenzo, Canada, and even Germany and Australia. I doubt he even knew your parents by name.”

 

     For the first time, Arnold sighed in relief when a fact contradicted his dream. La Sombra—Lázaro Somoza Bravo—didn’t have a personal vendetta against his parents.

 

     But there was more information he needed.

 

     “What about Eduardo, my parents’ friend? Doesn’t he know anything?”

     Michelle searched the documents again. “Doctor Eduardo Carlos García Alazraqui—no relation either to Anastasio Somoza García—anthropologist, and…” She looked up at the boy. “He was also in the missing plane. Eduardo has been missing all this time as well, Arnold.”

     Lowering his head, he felt even more ashamed now. He never wanted to admit it, but deep down, he held some resentment for Eduardo—Doctor García—since it had been him who called his parents to the mission they never came back from.

 

     His thoughts were interrupted when Helga put her hands behind her head and scoffed, “Puh. You’d think with all the fancy satellite images there are now, anyone would be able to find a plane…”

     “The tropical forest grows much faster than you think, Helga,” said Michelle. “It can cover any wreck, or anything else, for that matter, in just a few weeks. That’s why it’s doubtful that satellite pictures, even highly detailed ones, would be able to find the plane. And what makes things worse is that Doctor García’s plane was grey, not white, as most of them are in San Lorenzo, precisely to make them easier to find if they crash in the middle of the jungle. Maybe Doctor García was about to paint his plane white, but he never got the chance.”

 

     _So, even Eduardo is missing. No wonder no one has heard from my parents._

 

     Arnold leaned back, closed his eyes, and tried to steel himself for the inevitable. “So…all the searches have been called off? There’s no more hope of finding my parents, or Eduardo?

     Michelle wasn’t about to let a child leave her office with all his hopes dashed to pieces. “Arnold…” she began. “The San Lorenzan government may have called off the search, but their official status is Missing in Action, not Presumed Dead. Your grandparents still come here every week asking for them. They don’t _call_ , they _come and ask_ , like you did just now, always hoping for news, _any_ news, of whether they have been found, or…the final certainty that they, and Eduardo, won’t be coming back. The San Lorenzan government may not be searching for them anymore, but that doesn’t mean that Helpers for Humanity isn’t searching, either. If anything, the search of your parents, Eduardo, and the plane are part of the regular work of Helpers for Humanity in San Lorenzo. They made lots of friends in the organization, I’ll tell you that, and it’s those friends who are always on the lookout for them. Still…” She sighed and leaned back, six years of exhaustion brought upon her by the whole ordeal seemingly sinking fully in her middle-aged body. “It’s a big jungle out there, Arnold, and the search could continue for quite a long while. And as more and more time passes, even IF their plane is found…”

     Arnold didn’t let the uncomfortable silence blare in the room, and he stopped it by bluntly stating, “It’s unlikely they’ll still be alive. Yes, I know…I’ve…deep down, I’ve always known that was a very real possibility, even if I tried to push it away or just not accept it, period.”

 

     _So THAT’S the source of his eternal optimism,_ realised the blonde girl. _A bit naïve, but it’s kept him from falling into despair all this time…_

 

     The light-skinned boy stood again and concluded, “I…I guess that will be all, then. Thanks, Miss Sandoval, for all the information. It’s been very… _very_ helpful for me.”

     The woman also stood and leaned toward him. “Arnold, whatever happens, whatever we find out, Helpers for Humanity will always do what we can to help you and your grandparents.”

     He nodded. “Thank you.” He turned and waited for his friends to stand, but just before he took his next step, he turned and asked, “Just…one last thing, though.”

     “Yes?” asked Michelle.

     “Has Helpers for Humanity ever done any contests for class field trips?”

 

     His friends were practically broken-hearted as they saw his friend grasping at straws, holding out for one last gram of hope that his dream _might_ have had some element of truth in it.

 

     The manager replied, “We’ve hosted local field trips for elementary, middle, and high schools to help out local run-down areas, if that’s what you mean.”

     “But have you done any contests for overseas trips? In which the winner takes his whole class on a trip?”

     The woman thought for a moment, and pondered, “Hmm…that’s quite an interesting idea, but any overseas trips, or even contests for overseas trips, are held for college classes, and then for those taking archaeology and anthropology courses. Any work we do with elementary schools are strictly on the local level, and then to basically introduce them to philanthropy and social improvement. Trust me, if your school was to hold any contest involving us, we would be there in your class explaining everything,” she finished with a smile.

 

     _A smile that nailed yet another nail in the coffin of Arnold’s dream._

 

     _UGH, HOW CAN I BE SO STUPID???!!! If that contest had been real, there would have been a worker from Helpers for Humanity in the class, explaining everything along with Mister Simmons!!!_

 

     “Arnold, you okay?”

     Gerald’s question snapped him out of his internal rage, and he sighed, “Yeah, I was just…thinking on what else I’m going to add to my notes. Anyway,” he turned to the woman, “thanks for everything, Miss Sandoval.”

     “You’re welcome, and remember, you’ll always be welcome here, Arnold.”

 

     The four children left the meeting room, leaving the woman alone. Then she picked up the documents and left through another door to return to her office, but just as she sat down at her desk, her phone rang. “Yes…? Yes, we’re done. I hope he comes back…Oh? Yes, yes, put her through.” She waited a moment and continued as another speaker was connected. “Good morning, Doctor Antoine…Yes, I know you prefer to be informal, I’m just following protocol…yes, I do, in fact, I was just… _WHAT…???!!!_ ” 

* * *

      The four kids were walking down the sidewalk, but not toward any bus stop that would take them back home. They didn’t notice that detail yet because the tall-haired boy was saying, “Arnold, you turned as white as a sheet when you heard that La Sombra’s real name was ‘Eduardo’.”

     “In my dream…uh…where did I leave off?” he asked, apparently dodging Gerald’s comment.

     “Abner stowing away on a handbag,” was Phoebe’s quick response.

     “Thanks. When we got to San Lorenzo—and strangely enough, I don’t remember making any layovers, even though there are at least two—Gerald and I sneaked away to find Eduardo’s house. We found it trashed, but didn’t call the police, for some reason, and we hurried back to the class before the boat trip began. Eduardo was waiting for us there—and no, I didn’t think of telling him that his home got trashed—but later it turned out that it was really La Sombra disguised as Eduardo. Once the river boat trip began, La Sombra pulled me aside and gave me some ‘magical’ amulet, which began glowing as soon as I grabbed it. He told me to keep it a secret from everyone, including you, Gerald, and since I thought he was my parents’ best friend, I stupidly trusted him, but it still never occurred to me to tell him that his house was broken into. Well, we were attacked by what he said were river pirates, but it was in fact the police trying to capture him, and we managed to escape them somehow. The boat got wrecked, so we hiked to where the Helpers for Humanity camp was supposed to be, and that’s when La Sombra revealed himself, and we were all captured, and he told lies about how it was all my fault that everyone was captured because the whole contest was his doing, and it was all to find a long lost relic called ‘El Corazón’—that’s a real relic, by the way—and because everyone believed him instead of me and he twisted everything to make it sound like I cared more about my parents than the rest of you, everyone cut me off, including you three—”

     “Whoa, whoa there!” Gerald’s gestures made the four stop, again. “Arnold, I would NEVER cut you off for somethin’ like that! Sure, I’d be really mad if you held out on a secret that involved everyone and then caused a disaster like that, but cut you off? Arnold, my man, you KNOW I would AT LEAST give you the benefit of the doubt, and even more if it was somethin’ that dealt with your parents! I mean…why…why would you dream that I would do that? How long have you known me, Arnold? Do…do you really think I would do somethin’ like that to you?”

     The light-skinned boy leaned back against a nearby building and covered his eyes with his right hand. “No! I…I guess…I guess I was afraid of losing my friends! After all, I had lost my parents, and then it turned out that all I did to help others—to help YOU guys—was all for nothing because I kept a stupid secret—”

     “Well, there must be something deeper if you dreamed we would all cut you off like that,” said the spectacled girl. “Is there anything else you’re afraid of?”

     Arnold thought about that, but for a while, he just leaned back, silent, and a moment later he lowered his arm and turned away from Phoebe.

     The short girl realised her friend’s internal dilemma, so she added. “Well…Arnold, you…you don’t have to tell us that…not yet, anyway…not if you really don’t know, or…or if it makes you feel uncomfortable talking about your inner demons.”

     He smiled slightly and sighed, “Thanks, Phoebe. I’m not too sure myself what brought on all that. But I was feeling really horrible then, knowing I had lost everyone’s friendship.”

     “Well, Football Head, while this may be hard to believe, I wouldn’t cut you off like that, either, not _that_ quickly, anyway. Sure, Ol’ Betsy and the Five Avengers might rough you up a bit,” a twinkle in her blue eyes showed that she wasn’t joking, “but I wouldn’t cut you off completely.”

 

     Right there Arnold remembered that in his dream, he had brushed her off just as she was trying to re-confess her undying love for him, and it affected her to the point that she tore up his portrait in her locket, and threw away both the picture AND the locket in the river…

 

     _He didn’t want THAT to happen, did he?_

 

     “And I told you this before, Football Head, you’re okay,” her voice softened. “And if something so freakingly huge made you make a freakingly bad decision, I, like Tall Hair Boy here, would give you another chance.”

     Yet another sigh. “Thanks, Helga. I’m…I’m glad I can count on you, even you, Phoebe.”

     “You’re welcome, Arnold. But where are we going now? This isn’t the way to the bus stop.”

     Arnold turned and looked at an even larger building that occupied the entire block. Large letters near the roof declared the name and function of the establishment:

 

HILLWOOD GENERAL HOSPITAL

 

     “I’m taking Nurse Shelley’s advice, for once. We’re going to get one last bit of information, straight from the professionals.” 

* * *

     The hospital receptionist, a stout Caucasian woman with grey hair, was much more short with the children, not to mention slightly impatient. “ _Any_ doctor? You want to talk to _any_ doctor in the hospital?”

     “Any doctor who might be available right now. This isn’t an emergency, and we just need professional information for a research project we’re doing,” said the wide-headed boy, sighing with frustration again.

     “Well, I dunno if you can talk to any of the doctors without an appointment, but maybe—” Someone caught her eye at that point. “Ah, Doctor Jones!!! He might be able to help you out; he’s going to lunch right now and he’s not dealing with any emergencies, so you could try with him.” She pointed at a tall, thin, and rather scruffily dressed Caucasian man with short brown hair and who looked like he hadn’t shaved all week, wearing the trademark white gown over his worn-down dark sports jacket and worn-down black pants. He was walking with a pronounced limp on his right leg, assisted by a wooden cane, and blue sneakers helped his unsteady gait. “Just be nice to him, kids, he’s VERY rough around the edges, but he’s one of the best doctors we’ve got.”

     “Thank you, ma’am. Come on, guys!”

 

     The four kids left the receptionist’s desk and ran to catch up with the best doctor of the hospital.

     “Doctor Jones?” asked Arnold. “Sorry to bother you, we just want to ask you a few questions—”

     “Have you got an appointment, kid?” he asked without bothering to look at the children.

     Phoebe replied, “This isn’t for a consultation or a check-up, Doctor Jones. We just need your professional expertise on…um…what information did you need to ask him about, Arnold?”

     “Look, don’t bother me now, okay? I’m TRYING to have a peaceful lunch.”

     The kids looked ahead and saw that they were all headed for the hospital cafeteria.

     Arnold insisted, “Doctor, we promise we’ll be quick. We just need some expert information about what happens when someone goes into a coma.”

     At that, Phoebe, Gerald, and Helga looked at each other, taken aback at the topic that was suddenly thrust into the conversation.

     It was only then that the man stopped and looked down at Arnold; his seemingly uncaring gaze bore down on the boy with the strange head. Then he resumed his laboured pace and entered the queue, grabbing his tray and picking out his lunch: two sandwiches, some fruit juice, and some beef with gravy. “That’s something strange for someone your age to be asking. Someone you know is in a coma?”

     The boy steeled himself and replied, “Yes.”

     Again, his friends stood back at that.

     The doctor raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh? Is he or she in this hospital?”

     Arnold took a deep breath and replied, “No. They…they’re actually in another city, but they are my relatives.”

     The man paid for his lunch and hobbled to an empty table. “I see. Something about their coma worries you?”

     “I’m…I’m just wondering…when a person is in a coma, how can they be helped before they wake up?”

     “Well, obviously, if a person is in a coma, the first thing you need to do is to get them to a hospital, which I hope they are in at this point. Once they’re stabilised, they’d need an IV drip, and a bedpan and catheter to pick up their bodily wastes, after all, they can’t go to the bathroom on their own now, can they?” He sat at the table and began eating. The children didn’t sit down with him, respecting the man’s personal space. “Let’s hope your relatives have constant medical supervision, and by constant, I mean 24/7. They would also need to be moved regularly to prevent bedsores.”

     At the mention of bedsores, Arnold blanched again. “What would happen if someone fell into a coma…in…in a remote village in the middle of nowhere, with no medical help? Would…” he gulped. “Would they survive for long?”

     The expert scoffed. “Not for very long. If there is no medical help, the person will eventually dehydrate because they can’t drink anything, but even if someone managed to make them drink something, they would starve to death in more-or-less six weeks because they can’t _eat_ anything, either. Or maybe less, since some comas tend to affect the diaphragm—that’s the muscle that moves your lungs, kid.”

     The boy stood there, stunned at the information he had just received. If all that was true, then that means that his dream…

 

_…his parents, in his dream…_

_…and all those adults…_

 

     “Anything else, kid?”

 

     Arnold snapped out of his fright, and stuttered, “Um…yes…what…if they had all the medical attention they needed, would they be okay once they woke up?”

     “Well, that depends on how long the coma was. If it was rather long, they would need to go into physical rehabilitation, because since they didn’t move their muscles and bones for such a long time, they would be very soft and weak. They would need quite a long rehabilitation to regain their lost muscle mass and bone thickness.”

     “And…how much muscle mass and bone thickness would be lost after being in a coma for…oh…nine years?” Arnold was grasping at straws again.

     He finally turned to the boy and raised his left eyebrow. “Nine years? Kid, that person would barely be able to walk or even _stand_. Even if someone moved them around while they were in a coma, they wouldn’t be able to shave themselves or comb their own hair, much less cut it.”

 

     _And when all the adults woke up, they were able to stand and walk and run and hug their children without any problems, even after not moving for nine years…_

_…none of the adults had long hair…_

_…or long beards…_

_…in his dream, his parents looked almost the exact same way they did when his grandparents took their picture six years ago, same muscle tone, same hair length, no beard or moustache on his father…_

 

     Arnold’s demeanour changed once more, from blanched due to fright to reddening with rage again—

     Three calming hands touched his shoulders, and he suddenly turned to look at his caring friends who were attentive enough to notice his shift in emotions. The boy took a few calming breaths, and continued, “Doctor Jones, have you heard of the Central American Sleeping Sickness?”

     The man, still oblivious to the child’s emotional turmoil, replied as he chewed on his sandwich, “I’ve read a few reports. Luckily, it’s quite rare and it’s currently confined to Central America. And since it’s a tropical disease requiring constant tropical weather, there’s no danger of it ever appearing in America.”

     “And…can a person with the Sleeping Sickness go into a coma?”

     “If they have no medical treatment, yes. But that would barely be the first of the complications that would arise. Among them, all the bad stuff that would happen in an untreated coma. Would you like to hear the rest of them in medical detail?” he asked, dripping with dank humour.

     The boy sighed, nodded at his friends, and replied, “No, thank you. That…that will be all. Thanks, Doctor Jones, you were very helpful in this. Have…enjoy your lunch.”

     “Yeah. Just don’t make a habit out of this, kid. Next time, make an appointment, and I’ll see if I can defer you to someone who actually LIKES working with kids. Now, scram.”

     The children looked at each other and let the socially challenged man enjoy the rest of his lunch hour in peace.

     Helga waited until they were out of hearing range, and spat, “Wow, and I thought _I_ was anti-social. I wonder if he’s only a doctor and helping others because of the money…” 

* * *

      Once outside the hospital, the four walked slowly toward the nearest bus stop, and they walked slowly because Arnold was quite dejected and disappointed at the whole issue of what was real, and what was just a dream.

     “Now what?” asked Gerald, hoping to pull his best friend out of his funk, somehow.

     “I guess we go home now. I got all the information I needed for all the parts of the dream I managed to remember. There’s…” He gave a shuddering sigh. “There’s nothing else we can do now.”

     “Would…?” Helga stuttered, not believing that she was actually going to suggest this out loud, much less in front of Gerald and Phoebe. “Would you…like for us to keep you company? Maybe…maybe hang out in your room for the rest of the day? You know…just…just so…” She looked at him with uncharacteristic empathy, which Gerald interpreted as being nice because she didn’t want him to blow up at her again out of fear of a repeat of his outburst from yesterday. “Just so you won’t be alone this afternoon?”

     “I suppose so. I don’t have anything else planned today, and there’s not much else I can remember from that dream…that… _stupid_ dream…”

     Gerald put his arm around his best friend, “Well, maybe we can go to you room and toss out all the movies that caused you to dream all that, maybe even go up on your roof and set them on fire.”

 

     The four stopped again, and looked at themselves.

     And they all laughed, at long last.

 

     Just then, Phoebe saw that their bus was approaching, so she flagged it down. As they stepped inside, Arnold said, smiling, “You know what, Gerald, that actually sounds like a very good idea.”

     Again, the four sat on the back row in the same arrangement, and there Arnold wrote down the final facts he learned today. 

* * *

      The bus ride was rather long, considering how far they had travelled today.

     “Say, Football Head, what else did I do in your dream besides win the contest and give you the cold shoulder for making a promise based on a lie a petty thief told you?”

     Arnold thought for a moment, and after closing his dream journal, continued his spiel, “Oh, you did plenty in it, Helga. After we had been locked up by La Sombra, I thought I had lost everything: my parents, my friends, and soon perhaps my life, so I was more-or-less moping around my cell. You overheard me, and I guess you felt sorry for me, so you planned an escape, and it worked, oddly enough,” Helga felt proud that her beloved would think of her a heroine here, “but only you, me, and Gerald were able to get away, but that was because La Sombra _wanted_ us to escape, because the string of the amulet he gave me had a homing device, and even though it had a blinking LED, none of us noticed it until it was too late.” Helga’s hopes were dashed once again. “And like I said, the amulet was somehow ‘magically’ linked to the map my dad had in his journal, because it glowed green whenever I brought the two together. Also, the amulet had a translucent part, like glass or crystal, that showed a hidden path that was on the map, kind of like invisible ink, and it led us to the village of the Green-Eyed People—the people that my parents went to help in the Sleeping Sickness epidemic. At first, I thought the amulet was just fluorescent, but it glowed bright enough to light a path in the dark jungle, like a flashlight, and it only glowed whenever I was close to it. You know, ‘magic’.”

     Helga scoffed again. “Puh, ‘magic’? That really IS a lame dream, Football Head.”

     Phoebe quickly added, “That’s true, Arnold. For all the ‘magic’ talismans and medallions and amulets we see in the movies, any archaeologist will tell you that no actual ‘magic’ artefact has ever been found, and any mention of ‘sorcerers’ or ‘magicians’ were very likely just sleight-of-hand illusionists, kind of like you were in the magic show you did a few months ago.”

     Arnold remembered how his birth supposedly stopped a volcanic eruption, and hence, the Green-Eyed People _thought_ that he had magical properties somehow, and hence, the amulet reacted to his ‘magic’, as if he was the fulfilment of some ‘prophecy’…

 

     _…which only existed in his dream…_

 

     “You’re right, Phoebe…and you’re right, Helga. The dream really IS lame. I mean, if the map and the amulet were ‘magically’ linked somehow, La Sombra could have just taken the map from me and gone on to find the village by himself…you know, Phoebe,” he pondered, “maybe we should take a closer look at that map, just to see if it has any hidden messages or something like that, which would only be able to be seen with a…”

     “A special filter?” asked the Asian-American. “I think we can do that. If we can find some 3-D glasses, or any cellophane of various colours, and perhaps a black-light lamp, we should see if there’s anything ‘hidden’, or not. But it really is strange that La Sombra didn’t take your map in your dream. Didn’t he search you once he captured you?”

     The boy thought again, and blinked as he realised, “Huh, how about that, he didn’t. I guess he really isn’t that smart, like Miss Sandoval said…”

     “Arnold, I told you before,” said Gerald. “Movies are movies, and this is Real Life, okay? In Real Life, smugglers and pirates and drug dealers are much smarter!”

     Phoebe added, “That’s true. Even though most drug traffickers and drug lords rarely finish elementary school, they have very high IQs, so they’re naturally and instinctively much more intelligent than other criminals. One article published by the Drug Enforcement Agency said that it’s that naturally high intelligence that makes them much more dangerous and much more difficult to capture.” She sighed, lowering her head slightly. “Pity. If they had managed to continue their education, they could have easily become the best brain surgeons and rocket scientists of Latin America…”

     “Except La Sombra,” Helga leaned back and placed her hands behind her head. “I mean, if he got captured that soon, maybe he’s even LESS smart than how you dreamed him to be, Football Head. From what Michelle told us, La Sombra turned out to be one big dope, and much stupider than Harold if his own goons decided to turn him in.”

     Her shorter friend resumed, “True. Maybe the government put out a reward on his head, and his assistants decided that the reward paid them more than La Sombra himself did.”

     Arnold also leaned back, and smiled at his friend, “You know, Phoebe, that just might be right.” He turned back up front and waited as the bus ran its route.

 

     There were a few moments of silence between the kids, but it was broken by the short girl. “From what you asked me at school, I take it I was also in your dream? I did something with cell phones?”

     He turned to her, blinking, and replied, “Oh yes. After Helga helped Gerald and me escape, and it was clear that neither Mister Simmons nor Olga Pataki had any idea what to do and were even much more helpless than the rest—”

     “Heh, a helpless Olga. What a surprise,” scoffed the tall girl.

     “—you had an idea of how to call for help. You snatched Rhonda’s phone, cracked it open with your screwdriver—”

 

     _I had a screwdriver?_

 

     “—had the others grab every single piece of metal in the cell—originally it had been a Helpers for Humanity camp, so there were a lot of coat hangers, an old phone, a car battery, and other stuff—and you somehow managed to connect Rhonda’s phone to Olga’s beepers and La Sombra’s…communications…I don’t think I understood that part well. You managed to send out a simple message, ‘SOS BOB’, to all the beepers in Mister Pataki’s store, and somehow in that message you included the coordinates of where you were being held, and…Helga’s parents somehow understood it, and they managed to get a rickety old plane and fly to San Lorenzo to help us, along with my grandparents.”

     Phoebe just looked at Arnold, trying to comprehend just how that entire plan might have worked, and after a bit, stated, “Arnold, while that plan might sound plausible—in your dream, at least—it also sounds a bit fantastic, well, from my point of view. I’m flattered that you think I’m smart enough to handle both wireless beeper and cell phone technology, as well as knowing my ever changing geographic latitude and longitude, but any ‘coordinates’ of our position would have been a wild guess, at most, even with my knowledge of basic astronomy, and that’s IF it was night time and I had a clear view of the sky overhead. Also, had I been in that situation, I wouldn’t have called Helga’s parents, I would have called the local police, the army, or the coast guard. After all, they would have reached us much faster than Mister and Mrs. Pataki would have.”

     “Yeah, calling Bob would have been a HUGE mistake, Football Head. An ‘SOS BOB’ message on his beepers would have been completely meaningless to him, and he just might have assumed that all his beepers were malfunctioning or something. Like I said, he’s a very good businessman…but not much anything else.”

     Arnold facepalmed again. “Of…of course…of course it wouldn’t have worked. But still…” he tried to salvage some of that incident. “The reason they suddenly understood the message is because they knew Olga was in trouble…Olga more than Helga…sadly.” He looked at the tall girl, at last understanding the family situation that she had hinted at him for so long.

     The girl in question crossed her arms, and sighed, “Well, at least _that part_ sounds typical of Bob and Miriam. Heaven forbid that their precious and perfect first-born daughter should be in _any_ type of danger.”

     He softly said, “Well, for what it’s worth, they _did_ mention you as they prepared to leave, so they didn’t forget you entirely.”

     “Puh. Now THAT was definitely just a dream, Football Head. Though…” she suddenly realised. “In your dream, why didn’t Phoebe also take Olga’s cell phone and hook it up to that improvised communicator?”

     Arnold looked at Helga, and looked at her, and looked at her…

 

     Facepalm.

_“Because I didn’t know that she had a cell phone until now, ‘doi’…”_

 

     The tall girl shook her head and patted her beloved’s right shoulder, “Ah, don’t beat yourself over that, Football Head. Your dream just went with what information you had.”

     “And you also dreamed your parents were in a coma?” asked Gerald, trying to get his friend to continue.

     The blonde boy sighed and resumed his narration. “Yes. After you, Helga, and I managed to find the village of the Green-Eyed People—avoiding plenty of traps, like arrows shooting from walls, hidden pits that open by stepping on the wrong tile, swinging vines, and such—we saw that there were only children there, none of them older than us. It turns out that the Central American Sleeping Sickness had spread over all the adults, including my parents, and they had been in a coma for some nine years—”

     “But none of them had long hair or beards, right?” asked Phoebe.

     “None whatsoever, and they all looked very healthy and strong, not starved to death or dehydrated.”

     “I guess you’ve never seen anyone who has been in a long coma, Arnold. Also, if there were no adults around, then the traps you mentioned wouldn’t have worked properly, either. All those movies where we see treasure hunters activating traps set up thousands of years ago…well, those type of traps, for the complexity in their setup, would have needed constant maintenance in order to remain active. I doubt that those children would have known how to keep them properly maintained, especially in a tropical forest environment.”

     “Oh, it gets better, Phoebe,” he droned with sarcasm. “Apparently, the Green-Eyed People had set up a machine that would take the ingredients needed to make the cure for the Sleeping Sickness, but only I, with the El Corazón relic, could activate it. Before I could do that, La Sombra found us. We fought, he stole El Corazón, we fought again, and…eventually…”

 

     _…rope bridge…poison darts…hanging from the cliff…losing El Corazón…La Sombra falls…_

 

     “…eventually…” he sighed, skipping all the parts he judged too intense to share right now, “…the fight ended with La Sombra falling off a cliff, along with El Corazón. Eduardo—the real one—then showed up in the nick of time to rescue us all, and we went back to the village where we…well…”

 

     _…Helga’s locket…with his picture in it…_

 

     “…we managed to improvise and put in a ‘substitute’ El Corazón, something metal of a similar shape. The machine activated, the cure was produced, and the machine made the cure rain down on where the adults were, and they all woke up…”

     “…Perfectly fine, as if they had fallen asleep the night before and not nine years prior?”

     “Basically, Gerald. I got reunited with my parents, and…”

 

     _…realised he was in love with Helga Pataki, and for once, he kissed her instead of her kissing him…_

 

     _…they kissed…_

_…the kiss felt so wonderful, so natural, so perfect, so…in love…_

 

     “And?” asked Helga, tapping her foot impatiently.

     “And…” he tried not to blush. “That’s when I ‘woke up’. I don’t remember any return trip, I just…found myself on my bed again. I thought that it had all been a dream, but when I went downstairs, my parents were there, all perfectly fine, and it was ‘the worst day of school’, Gerald.”

     “The first day of fifth grade?” asked the African-American.

     “The first day of SIXTH grade,” corrected his best friend. “Of course, my parents insisted on walking me to school, and yes, they could walk long distances perfectly fine, and…”

 

     _…and Helga wanted to return to how everything was before by refusing to let him hold her hand…_

 

     “…and we walked into the school while my parents waited outside…and that’s when I woke up for real.”

 

     The four kids were silent for a moment, until Phoebe gave yet another explanation. “That would be a rather inefficient way to spread the cure for the Sleeping Sickness. If they had all the ingredients ready, why didn’t they just follow the instructions on how to make the cure themselves, to at least get one adult to wake up and help make more, and wake up more adults and get them to help and make even more, before all the adults succumbed to the disease? And if the machine could have been activated with anything that was in the same shape as El Corazón, why didn’t they try that sooner, in the nine years that they had waited for someone to activate the machine?”

     “Yeah, Football Head. I mean, if someone wanted coffee and their coffee pot got broken, anyone with half a brain would just take a spoon and make it by hand, if they wanted it bad enough!!! I don’t know where you got your info on how ‘educated’ the Green-Eyed People are, or even their kids, but your dream kinda makes them look like they’re even dumber than La Sombra. Though I’m surprised he fought with you; did you beat him to a pulp with your karate skills?”

 

     Facepalm.

     “Uh…no…I…I had completely forgotten that I knew karate.”

 

     “Man, Arnold, that dream is totally messin’ with your head! Did he even have a gun or somethin’?”

 

     Another facepalm.

     “Sheesh, no…I think he had a machete or a knife, but…”

 

     “A bunch of kids could have swarmed him and disarmed him!” spat Helga. “Crimeny, Football Head, that pizza you ate must have made you think less efficiently or something.”

     “I know that, okay???!!!” He waved a frantic right palm. “I…I know that now, but…I didn’t know it back then. I feel stupid enough as it is.”

     Helga immediately sat back and shut up, blanching again out of fear at his sudden outburst. She didn’t apologise, but she knew when to back down, lest he have another reaction to her like he did in the classroom.

     Arnold, meanwhile, lowered his arm, looked at the floor, wanting to ignore his friends, and was about to continue writing…

 

     _…Helga swooned over me…she monologued over me…that look in her eyes when we were about to die…_

 

     …but then he noticed the familiar streets the bus was in now. Wordlessly, he stood, and signalled a stop. The three followed him as they stepped out and walked two blocks to Sunset Arms. 

* * *

  _Author’s note: In Latin America, “Lalo” or even “Lalito” is the nickname given to those who are named “Eduardo”. I have no idea why._


	10. Chapter 8: Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Class, can you say "extrapolation"? :D :D :D

**EIGHT – FAMILY**

 

 

     The usual mob of animals poured out the front door, only this time, they were definitely giving Arnold a wide berth, from how he treated them this morning. Though again, he made sure to take a closer look at the animals that ran out…

     …and Helga definitely noticed that. “What?”

     Sighing after getting yet another confirmation that he was awake, he explained, “In my dream, after we returned, a snake, a monkey, a parrot, and a few pink butterflies came back with us. They joined the animals that show up like this…”

     Now it was Phoebe’s turn to scoff. “Really? All those tropical animals, on a plane? On an _American_ plane? In an _American_ airport? Please, Arnold, if it was impossible enough for a pig to stow away on a plane, even a charter plane, wildlife authorities—both in San Lorenzo and the U.S.—would have got VERY upset if all those animals tried to board a plane, or even get off one in an American airport. They definitely would have _at the very least_ tried to arrest SOMEONE for trafficking wildlife.”

     Arnold’s fist trembled with rage, and he growled. “Nghh…this dream gets stupider all the time!!!” He stomped inside, and his friends warily followed. Moments later, they found him sitting at the dining room table and furiously writing down what Phoebe had just explained.

     Cautiously, the short girl approached her friend from his right, making sure to stand out of his arm’s reach. “Arnold…Arnold…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just…said what I knew was true…and what I thought was common knowledge concerning international flights and what is allowed and prohibited to bring on a plane…”

     Her soft voice seemed to calm him down, so he stopped writing, looked down, and sighed, “It’s…it’s not your fault, Phoebe. It’s nobody’s fault…none of it is. But I guess…” he stood and closed his journal. “I guess it’s about time I stopped living in a fantasy world where everyone had a happy ending because everything _conveniently_ came together in a _convenient_ timing.” He turned to his friends and added, “It’s time I woke up, for real. Now, come on, let’s go upstairs and find those movies and trash them,” he smiled.

     They all agreed and smiled as well, and were about to run up the stairs, but found their path blocked by Phil, arms crossed, as he stood at the bottom of the stairs. He glared at his grandson and demanded, “Arnold!!! Where have you been? Why did you run off like that without telling anyone where you were going??? We all were worried sick!!!”

     The boy’s anger resurfaced with a vengeance. Defiantly, he walked up to his father’s father, and scolded back. “YOU were worried? Grandpa, since you’re asking, I went to the Helpers for Humanity office here in Hillwood, TRYING to get information about my parents!! You know, the same ones who HAPPEN to be _your son and daughter-in-law_???”

 

     Total silence.

 

     Gerald, Phoebe, and Helga stood aside, waiting for everything to explode…and getting caught in the middle of it.

     Then, Arnold let out a long breath, and continued softly, “And there…I found out that you go there every week, precisely asking about your son and daughter-in-law.” He looked up at his caretaker, “I’m sorry, Grandpa. For a long time, I…I thought you honestly didn’t care about them. You hardly ever talk about them, you never look like you miss them…or want them back…or want me to know anything about them…”

     The elder uncrossed his arms and looked softly at his grandson, “Because it looked like I didn’t do anything about my missing son, whom I haven’t seen in six years? Arnold, every day, every single night, before going to bed, I see his face, I see him smiling along with your mother, smiling at you, and frankly…it’s been driving me and your grandmother crazy. You have no idea how much we long to have them back…and…if I could do anything to have them here again, I would. I…I really would…”

     The two hugged in the middle of the stairs, finally understanding each other.

     Behind them, Gertie added, “Arnold, the only reason we looked like we didn’t care about them or mentioned them or if it seemed like we weren’t doing anything to bring them back, is because we wanted you to live a normal life as best as possible, and not worry constantly about them. Instead, we decided to do all the worrying for you and take your mind off the whole situation…but you still ended up taking after your parents more than we ever thought you would. Like your parents, you want to help others, and you’ve done wonderfully so far, but you still ended up worrying about them. And now you had a dream about them?”

     Arnold released his grandfather and explained, “It was a really stupid dream, Grandma, it wasn’t even a nightmare, just something really stupid. Basically, I dreamed we went to San Lorenzo and found them, but the whole thing, the video report contest, the trip, Abner, getting caught by a thief, a jungle adventure, lost temples and relics, people waking up from a long coma, and even the trip back, everything…was just too good to be true…much less real. All the research I did was to see if anything I dreamed was in some way possible…and I found out I was wrong in just about everything. The only good thing about the dream is that it had an ending where everyone lived happily ever after,” he almost spat on that last part. The others approached him, ready to act in case of another meltdown.

     “What did the people at Helpers for Humanity tell you, Shortman?”

     “Nothing more than what they told you before. The government of San Lorenzo called off the search five years ago, but everyone at Helpers for Humanity continues searching, but have found nothing so far. You know, I always had hope that one day they would be found, and everything came to a head because of that dream, so it was about time I just…woke up and faced reality.”

 

     “Reality isn’t as hopeless as you think it is, Cousin.” _Sniff._

 

     Everyone turned.

 

     Helga groaned. _Crimeny, not him again…_

 

     “Arnie!” exclaimed his cousin, as he looked at his relative as he walked out of the hallway. “When did you get here?”

     “About an hour after you left this morning,” he replied in his monotone speech. Left eye blink, right eye blink. “While I waited, I spent time reading all the ingredients of all the canned food in your kitchen…” He turned to look at the others, and added with a definite spark in his eyes, _Sniff,_ “Hello, Helga my love.”

     Gerald and Phoebe tried not to chuckle at his emotionless declaration of love. Meanwhile, the girl in question supressed a blush, crossed her arms, and quickly replied, “Sorry to break your heart, Bucko, but I already have a boyfriend.”

     “BoyOOF???!!!”

     Arnold and Gerald reflexively were about to ask Helga “Boyfriend?” and “What boyfriend?” but Phoebe, who stood between them, thought quickly and silenced them with two well placed elbow jabs on their ribs.

     Left eye blink, right eye blink. “Oh, okay,” said the pretender, with a definite disappointment in his voice. _Sniff._

     “But hey,” Helga quickly added. “Lila still thinks the world of you, you know. She _just might_ still like-you like-you…if you hurry and give her another chance.”

     _Sniff._ The weird cousin tilted his head slightly. “You really think so?”

     She waved her arms at him. “Look, just go talk to her, doi!!!” _And get the hell out of my sight, you weirdo._

     Arnold, meanwhile, stepped away from the stairs and approached his cousin. “But why are you here? You never mentioned that you were coming over to visit.”

     _Sniff._ “I wasn’t expecting to come to visit soon, either.” Left eye blink, right eye blink. “Everything was unexpected and very sudden, because—”

     He was interrupted by a rather loud toilet flush, and moments later a woman stepped out of the hallway to stand behind Arnie.

 

     “Because I needed to talk to you right away, Arnold.”

 

     The boy looked up at the woman; the lighting inside was seemingly playing tricks on his eyes, but he could swear that the woman was…was…

 

     “M…Mom?”

 

     “No, dummy.” Left eye blink, right eye blink. “MY mom…”

 

     Indeed, the woman bore an uncanny resemblance to Stella Shortman; same height, same slightly oval-shaped head, practically the same face…

     …but with a closer inspection, Arnold saw that her head was just slightly less oval than his mother’s, her brown hair had a darker shade and was longer, going just past her shoulders, and her eyes, nose, and mouth seemed slightly smaller, and she was perhaps two fingers shorter than his mother. The woman wore a blue shirt, blue jeans, and black shoes.

 

     “…and dad,” finished Arnie. _Sniff._

 

     A rather tall Caucasian man now entered the scene. He had a resemblance to a somewhat thin Dino Spumoni, with dark hair, and a long clean-shaven split chin. He had an orange shirt, black pants and blue sneakers.

     “Oh,” said Arnold, now coming to terms with who had arrived. “Hi, Aunt Esther. Hi, Uncle Kurt. Been a while, huh?”

     “Indeed it has, Arnold,” replied his aunt, again with a voice somewhat similar to Stella’s. “But why don’t we sit down? We have a LOT to talk about, which is why we are here in this surprise visit.”

     The boy shrugged and agreed, “Okay, sure. The living room’s this way—”

     “Hey, Arnold,” said Gerald. “You want us to give you some space? We could burn those movies another time, you know.”

     His friend stopped for a moment, remembering the ordeal that La Sombra had given him because he told him to keep a secret. “No, Gerald, in fact…to show you that I’m _nothing_ like my dream self, you three can stay here and listen, because I know I can trust you all.”

     “Now THAT’S the Arnold I know,” smiled the dark-skinned boy. The two did their secret handshake, and everyone filed into the living room.

* * *

      After everyone sat down and all the introductions were done, Esther, sitting in front of the couch where all the kids were, began, “Arnold, do you remember the last time Arnie came to visit you, six months ago?”

     “Yes, he flew here because you and Uncle Kurt had to travel…somewhere…but we never got to talking about where you went.”

     “Yeah, it was one weird day here,” quipped Helga, sitting on the armrest on Arnold’s left.

     The boy glared lightly at the girl, but his aunt continued, “Arnold, I don’t know if your grandparents already told you this, but your uncle and I are _also_ members of Helpers for Humanity.”

     “WHAT???!!!” asked all the children, except Arnie.

     Then Arnold glared at his grandparents, who were standing at Esther’s left, “Well, _that’s_ certainly a surprise…”

     Phil raised his hands innocently, “Now, Shortman, remember that we tried to keep you out of the loop for as long as we could. Would it have helped you at all to know what your aunt and uncle did?”

     His grandson huffed for a moment, and then calmed down, “No, I guess not.”

     Esther continued, “Arnold, your uncle and I, as members of Helpers for Humanity, are among the hundreds who haven’t stopped looking for…” she sighed, “…my sister and my brother-in-law…your parents…” Then she stated resolutely, “And I won’t stop until I find them.”

     Arnold felt ashamed once more. He never considered that there were _other_ members of his family who _also_ worried about his parents, besides his grandparents. Still, something didn’t add up. “When did you join Helpers for Humanity? I mean…my dad only mentioned you when he wrote about their wedding…”

     The woman rubbed her temples with both hands, “Ooohh, that’s just TYPICAL of Miles! Well,” she began. “I signed up around the same time your mother did, but I was assigned to Central Africa while your mother was sent to San Lorenzo. And we exchanged letters all the time, so I was very surprised when she first mentioned meeting your dad, dating him, working with him, and then getting engaged. I was already married to your Uncle Kurt before my first assignment, and your mother was able to come to my wedding back then, so I was determined not to miss HER wedding! Your uncle and I rushed to San Lorenzo as fast as we could, but with flight delays, layovers, and everything in between, we barely made it some…five minutes before the ceremony began, so I wasn’t able to get into the bride’s maid dress, sadly, but the good thing is that we made it, period. I got pregnant with Arnie around the same time your mother got pregnant with you, and I told her that I was going back to America and take a break from work for a while. Your parents decided to stay in San Lorenzo for a bit longer, but I guess they changed their minds and came back when you were a few months old. For a while, it seemed like we were all going to stay here for a rather long time, but then your mother called me after Eduardo came looking for their help when another epidemic broke out in the jungle. We all thought it was going to be a quick mission, which is why they left you with your grandparents, but after they disappeared, I took it upon myself to continue the search until they were found.”

     Arnold shook his head. “All this time, I honestly thought no one cared about them except me, and I once thought that I was going to have to look for them all by myself because there would be no one to help me…ugh, I can’t believe I was so stupid!”

     “Not stupid,” corrected Kurt, standing at his wife’s right. “Just…not fully informed. Like your grandfather said, we didn’t want to burden you with information you couldn’t handle, but now we can see that you’re ready for the whole truth, and we’re giving that to you now.”

     His nephew looked up at them, and cautiously asked, “Is that why Arnie stayed here six months ago? The two of you went to San Lorenzo?”

     “Yes,” replied his aunt. “We went to San Lorenzo because we were told that they had found a lead on your parents’ search, and we had to leave Arnie with you while we rushed down there. Unfortunately, the lead went nowhere, and we came back shortly after that.”

     “However, the reason for this unexpected visit…” Kurt spoke with a definite dramatic flair, as if he were making a voice-over for a cliff-hanger, “…is because we have another lead.”

 

     This time, the whole group exclaimed, causing birds to flutter away in fright. **_“ WHAT???!!!”_**

 

     Esther chuckled. “Yes, that’s why we’re here, Arnold. Maybe your dream was a sign that there is hope of finding your parents.”

     “But…but…” he stuttered. “Just…what kind of lead did you get?” he asked, not quite daring to hope that everything was going to turn out like in his dream.

     Kurt explained, “Explorers in San Lorenzo have found what COULD be parts of Eduardo’s turboprop plane. Before now, they had only reported items without any serial numbers, so they were nothing concrete. Now, however…”

     His wife finished, “Now they appear to have found a large piece of one of the engines. The engine number is rather scratched, so it’s difficult to read, but with luck, it just _might_ match Eduardo’s engine number.”

 

     Arnold’s eyes brightened, and his face lit up like the sunrise…

     …and he suddenly deflated once more; the reality of the research he did today brought him back down, and blocked any hopes of actually finding his parents, at least not until he knew for sure:

 

     “But…it’s…you only found a piece of Eduardo’s plane? You didn’t find…anything…or anyone else?” he asked cautiously.

     His aunt smiled at him with assurance, “Like we said, Arnold, it’s a lead which _might_ help find your parents AND Eduardo.” She sighed, “No one has heard from him either for such a long time…Arnold, I know you don’t want to think about this, but…it’s possible that if… _if_ …we find the plane…we…we might find your parents and Eduardo still in it.”

 

     The boy looked at his aunt for a while as a deathly silence filled the room.

 

     Finally, he replied, “I…I know, Aunt Esther. From what Miss Sandoval told us earlier…I’ve…come to terms that it’s something that _could_ definitely happen. I’ve rejected that idea for so long, in hope that they might be found alive, but…but I guess it was stupid of me to _not_ consider it as a real possibility. And if they’re still in that plane, well…” he tried to keep his voice from cracking. “At least we would have closure, since they would no longer be missing…just…dead…and…” He straightened up. “Killed in Action, because they died trying to help others.” He sighed, suppressing a shiver, and asked, “Is that why you brought Arnie here again?” He nodded at his cousin, who was on the opposite side of the couch from Helga. “You’re going to San Lorenzo again to follow the lead?”

     “Oh, even more,” she smiled at her nephew, proud of how maturely he was taking the whole ordeal. His grandparents had certainly done a fine job. “When I called your grandparents to tell them about the lead, you had just left to go talk with Michelle. I waited a bit and called Michelle to see what she told you, and your ‘interview’ gave us an idea. Arnold,” she leaned toward him, “I’m here to tell you that this time, not only will your uncle and I go to San Lorenzo, Helpers for Humanity will pay your and your grandparents’ tickets so you can come along with us!”

     “WHOA!!!” If Arnold hadn’t been sitting down, he would have fallen to the floor.

     “That’s right, Arnold!” added Kurt. “Your grandparents have told us so much about how you help others here, that we think it’s about time someone helped YOU—”

     “—To show me I’m not alone in this…wow, thanks, Uncle Kurt, thanks, Aunt Esther.” The boy was obviously trying not to cry for joy, and to help out with that, he turned to his best friend, who was sitting on his right. “Wow, Gerald, it looks like I’ll be going to San Lorenzo this summer after all!”

     His friend hugged his shoulders, “Man, Arnold! This hit just about everyone out of left field! But I tell you, this summer won’t be the same without you.”

     “I’ll say,” quipped Helga, hiding a hint of sadness and despair in her voice, since her beloved would not be with her in the near future. _So much for another wonderful beach trip, my love_. “I just hope _my_ summer isn’t _more_ ruined by Olga suddenly showing up and wanting to spend time with her ‘baby’ sister, puh…” She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes.

     Her beloved chuckled slightly at that, and said, “I know, I know, Helga, too bad you can’t come along. But hey, this isn’t a dream, it’s Real Life, right, Gerald?”

     “You know it, buddy,” was his logical response, but still, he was happy for his friend.

     Left eye blink, right eye blink. “Why can’t you?”

     Arnold did a double take at his cousin. “Why can’t we what?”

     _Sniff._ “Go to San Lorenzo with you. What’s stopping them?” Left eye blink, right eye blink.

     The boy with the blue cap straightened up, thought for a moment, and explained, “Please, Arnie, think about it. With my grandparents and me, the trip is expensive enough as it is. And I doubt that Helpers for Humanity will pay for three more kids who aren’t our relatives.”

     “Yeah, Bucko, and do you actually _think_ that our parents will let us go to the forsaken jungles of Central America, even with plenty of adult supervision?”

 

     _Obviously with more than ONE chaperone,_ thought Arnold.

 

     Helga added, “I mean, did your parents take YOU on that trip six months ago? Are you going with them NOW?” _And even if Arnold is with us, there is NO WAY I’d ever go on a trip with YOU, Bucko!!!_

     Gerald added, “Not to mention that there really isn’t any reason for Helga, Phoebe, and me to go along. It’s not a class trip, school is out for the summer, we’re not related to the Shortmans, we’re not archaeologists or anthropologists, much less archaeology or anthropology _students_ , and we wouldn’t exactly be doin’ much to help if we were actually over there. We’d just be…well…”

     “Non-contributing spectators,” finished Phoebe.

     Left eye blink, right eye blink. “Oh…I guess you’re right…” Despite his monotone, he definitely sounded dejected. _Sniff._ “I know I can’t go because I can’t stand being on a plane for more than one hour before I get hit with the worst bout of motion sickness you’ve ever seen.” Left eye blink, right eye blink. “Seriously, the last time it happened I almost coughed up my stomach.” The others were about to beg him to shut up, but he mercifully finished, “I always hoped to travel with you, Cousin, to give you support, but since I can’t, I was hoping that maybe your best friends would be able to go with you instead. I guess I was wrong about that, too.” _Sniff._

     The other four kids felt dejected at this point, until his mother said, “Not necessarily.”

     “Huh?” asked everyone in the room, simultaneously again.

     Esther leaned toward Arnold’s friends again and explained, “You three are very close friends of Arnold, from what I’ve heard, right?”

     The three cautiously agreed.

     “Well, since Arnold hasn’t grown up with his parents, and his grandparents—despite their efforts—aren’t as close as a _true_ parent should be—”

     “Hey!”

     “Oh, hush, Popsicle Chin!”

     “—if Arnold confides in you more than he does in his grandparents, maybe, just maybe, you three could come along, to give him the ‘moral support’ that Arnie mentioned.”

     Helga raised the right half of her eyebrow. “You mean make sure he doesn’t fall apart?” _Much like we did today, my love._

     “Or fly off the handle?” asked Gerald.

     “Or keep him from suddenly going on a rampage and beat to a pulp the nearest person he finds annoying?”

 

     At that, all the adults turned to look at Arnold, who blushed in shame and shrank into the sofa.

     Phil crossed his arms and demanded, “Okay, Arnold, what happened at school?”

 

     The boy rubbed his head with his right hand, and explained, “Wolfgang…that’s the fifth-grade bully…caught me just as school let out. He refused to let me pass, claiming he had pending issues with me from the football game he lost to us several months ago. I…I didn’t want to fight him, but he swung first. I…” _sigh_ , “…defended myself as best as I could…but I was so upset then that I…didn’t hold back, and didn’t stop until Wolfgang fell down. Hopefully he won’t bother me again, unless he gets another bully to help him out.”

     It was Esther’s turn to facepalm. “Let me guess, Gertie. Karate?”

     Arnold’s grandmother proudly defended her grandson. “Hey! He needed to know SOME type of self-defence, Esther! You know that not even public buses are safe, and what I taught him helped him defeat a bully!!!”

     “That’s right!!!” Gerald jumped in. “It was either Wolfgang or Arnold, and I, for one wouldn’t have liked havin’ to bring Arnold home on a stretcher! You should have seen him, Mrs.…um…”

     “Doctor Antoine,” said Esther.

     “…Doctor Antoine! Seriously, that Wolfgang guy should be in high school by now, and he’s twice Arnold’s size, but thanks to Gertie’s trainin’, Arnold left him flat as a pancake on the sidewalk!!! And Wolfgang never landed a punch or a kick on him, either!!!”

     At that, Gertie wondered. “Really now?” She walked up to her grandson, leaned down, held his shoulders, and looked carefully all over his head and face. Then she took his arms and inspected them as well. A minute later, she stood and beamed, “Amazing! Not a scratch!!! Well, your knuckles got bruised slightly, but that’s to be expected.”

     The boy smiled, but still felt somewhat ashamed. “You taught me well, Grandma.”

     “Heh, maybe TOO well,” murmured Gertie and Esther simultaneously.

     As the elder woman returned to her husband’s side, the female doctor declared, “Well, that settles it. Arnold _needs_ you three to go with him on this trip. Now comes the part of convincing your parents to let you go on the trip, and maybe help out with whatever expenses they can. It IS a rather expensive trip—”

     She was interrupted when she saw, near where Phil was standing, a portrait on the wall slide up, and a panel behind it slide open to the left. Something pushed a piece of paper out of the hidden space, and Phil caught it just as the panel and portrait returned to their original positions.

     Arnold turned to look at what appeared to be a security camera on the corner of the living room. _Mister Smith? He’s been watching all of this?_

     The elder man read the note, suddenly smiled with great joy, and exclaimed, “It’s from Mister Smith!!! Arnold, he’s been listening to the whole situation and he wants to help your friends take the trip to San Lorenzo!” He looked at the children, “If your parents agree, he can help with three plane tickets!!!”

     Arnold jumped from the couch and fist-pumped, “YES!!!” Turning to the camera, he smiled, nearly crying, “Thank you, Mister Smith!!!” The others also stood and thanked the mysterious man who was watching them on CCTV.

     “Mm-mm! Arnold, this looks like it’s going to be a _very_ interestin’ summer after all!”

     “You know it, Gerald!!!”

     Esther stood, enjoying seeing the children practically dancing for joy in front of her. “Okay, so it looks like we have an anonymous sponsor.” She also turned to the camera and saluted the benefactor. “Thank you, Mister Smith.” Facing the children, she added, “Now, the sooner we talk to your parents, the better. Um…would it be possible to bring them here?”

     Her nephew calmed down at that question, stood still, looked at his friends, and said, “She’s right. You’d better call them, guys.”

 

     _Wait, call Bob? Call MIRIAM???!!!_

 

     “Uh…” Helga rubbed her left arm. “You…want us to call them, and bring them _here_?” She _knew_ there was no way Bob nor Miriam would ever agree on her taking a trip to a forsaken Central American jungle!

     “Sure, why not?” her beloved asked innocently.

     The blonde girl had to think quickly, and think quickly she did. “Um…tell you what.” She turned to the oval-headed woman, and suggested, “Esth—Doctor Antoine, we’re having trouble with our phone, but I can run to my house and bring Miria—uh—my mom here. It’s not that far. I’ll be right back!!!”

     Helga dashed out of the house, barely avoiding the animals that were now rushing to go back inside.

     Everyone looked oddly at her as she did that, and Gerald commented, “That was weird.”

     “No, it wasn’t,” said Phoebe quite suddenly. “Trust me, it wasn’t. We’ll wait for Helga to come back with her mother, and if she takes a bit long, I’ll call her on her cell phone.”

     Left eye blink, right eye blink. “She has a cell phone?” _Sniff._

* * *

     After calling them on Sunset Arms’ landline, the children’s parents were now crowding the living room, about thirty minutes after Helga ran off. Phoebe’s parents stood behind their daughter, while Gerald’s parents did the same with him. Also, the rest of the boarders completed the audience, since the decisions taken here would also affect them this summer.

     Esther stood on one corner of the living room so she could look at everyone, and began, “Thank you all for coming on such short notice. I’m glad you all could make it…” She trailed off when she saw Helga, panting, and standing next to her nephew.

 

     _Alone._

 

     “Helga, where are your parents?”

     Without missing a beat, the blonde girl replied, “Well, Big B—my dad is too busy with his store to come here; it’s going through a HUGE transition and he won’t have a moment’s peace for quite a while, and Mir—my mom is…busy helping him out, but she _did_ write down and sign a permission slip.” As she spoke, Helga walked toward Esther, pulling out the folded note in question.

     The girl handed it to the doctor, who unfolded it and read:

 

_I, Miriam Pataki, hereby give permission to my daughter, Helga Geraldine Pataki, to assist Doctor Esther Antoine and the Helpers for Humanity organization in helping Arnold Phillip Shortman with the search for his parents this summer._

_I also give her permission to travel to wherever it’s necessary to do so, within reason, provided that Helpers for Humanity pay the travel expenses and pledge to keep Helga safe at all times._

_Signed,_

_Miriam Pataki_

 

     It didn’t seem odd to Esther that the permission slip had no spelling mistakes and was written in flowing penmanship, but one thing rather stood out. “Your mother has very lovely handwriting, Helga, but she has a rather odd signature. It _almost_ looks like she signed it when she was half-drunk.”

     Helga laughed and tried not to sweat with sudden nervousness, and tried to casually wave off the whole thing, “Oh, that, no, of _course_ she wasn’t drunk, doi! She just got…a hand cramp…from…all the _other_ signatures she’s been signing lately, heh-heh…”

* * *

       _At the Pataki’s house, Helga had swiped some stationary from Big Bob’s Beepers, and wrote down in black ink, in her best handwriting, the text of the permission slip, making sure there were no spelling or punctuation errors. Once that was done, she went to the kitchen, where Miriam was sitting at the table, half-conscious, AGAIN, with empty glasses in front of her, all having previously been filled with her infamous smoothies._

_The girl walked up to her and barked, “Miriam! I need you to sign this end-of-the-school-year notice! I need it signed before I go to school today!!!”_

_The woman lifted her head, blinked at the blurry girl in front of her, and a minute later, slurred her response, “Oh? Oh…um…sure, sweetie, just…give me a pen…”_

_Moments later, she scribbled what she thought was her signature, and fell asleep on the table again._

_Helga looked sadly at her mother, and thought,_ Crimeny, she wouldn’t notice if _I_ was the one who was missing for six years…

_She left her house and ran back to Sunset Arms…_

* * *

       Arnold, Gerald, and Phoebe were looking at each other, and Phoebe’s expression clearly told the boys to go with the flow and not give Helga any trouble.

     “Okay, Helga,” said Esther, pocketing the note. “Just let me know when I can talk to either of your parents, okay?”

     “Heh, sure,” she agreed, and returned to her position next to her beloved.

     The oval-headed woman turned to Gerald’s and Phoebe’s parents, and asked, “Now, on your way here, did your kids tell you what was involved in this trip?”

     Martin Johanssen, Gerald’s father, who wore glasses, a white dress shirt and brown tie, black pants, and black shoes, wasn’t entirely comfortable with the whole idea. “Gerald gave us a brief rundown of what you had in mind. But you say that Helpers for Humanity will pay for the whole trip?”

     “Yes,” nodded Esther.

     Kyo Heyerdahl, an Asian-American man with glasses and a moustache, wearing a yellow shirt, green vest blue pants, white socks with sandals, asked her, “And how long will the trip take?”

     “Two weeks at most, and should there be any delays or unforeseen situations, Helpers for Humanity, and Mister Smith, will pay any additional expenses. Even if the mission extends for much longer, you can rest assured that your children will return by mid-August, just in time to get ready for the next school year.

     Gerald’s mother, who wore blue earrings, a turtle-neck blue sweater, maroon pants, and brown shoes, also shared her husband’s doubts. “Are you sure you need Gerald for ‘moral support’? Won’t Arnold’s grandparents be enough?”

     Esther explained, “I don’t know how much Gerald told you, but Arnold had a meltdown right after the last day of school. While his grandparents and I will certainly go along, Arnold needs his friends because they’ve shown that, since they’re his peers, they can keep him from having another meltdown, especially in the case that…” she breathed deeply, “…that the worst-case scenario presents itself. Arnold needs all the help he can get, Mrs. Johanssen, especially when dealing with these kinds of issues.”

     Martin turned to his son, scowled and said, “Gerald, if you really _are_ Arnold’s best friend, why didn’t you do anything to stop the fight?”

     His best friend came to his rescue, “It all happened very fast, Mister Johanssen. Wolfgang had no qualms in attacking me right there and then, in front of the whole school, and practically without any warning. He wouldn’t listen to reason, and he would have hurt Gerald probably more than what he wanted to hurt me. And if we had tried to delay things, other kids might have ended up getting hurt as well. Wolfgang doesn’t care about rules, honour, or a fair fight, or even about hitting _girls_. He just wanted to attack and hurt others.”

     “Especially kids who are much younger and smaller than he is,” added Phoebe.

     Reba Heyerdahl, a Caucasian woman with red-brown hair, with a light-purple shirt, a dark purple ascot around her neck, purple pants, and brown boots, looked at her daughter for a moment, then turned to Esther and drawled in her Kentucky accent, “Wut worries meh is that three kids are need’d t’help Arneld. D’yew really thank that if th’worst case sc’nario happens, hee’ll have a big meltdaown?”

     Esther explained, “Reba, in the absence of his parents, they are the best help he has now, in addition to his grandparents, and his aunt and uncle. Believe me, if his cousin could go along, I’d take him in a heartbeat.”

     Left eye blink, right eye blink. _Sniff._

     “Also, you all know how much Arnold has done for you all, for your children, and for so many people here in town, not to mention this neighbourhood, which includes your _homes_ and your _jobs_. This is but a small favour that he now asks of you; he has helped you, will you now help him?”

     Before the parents could answer, Ernie did so, “She’s right, you know. If Mister Smith decided to help, there’s no reason we can’t.”

     Phil smiled at the midget, “I’m glad you say that, Ernie. Gertie and I have decided that, for the length of our absence, Mister Hyunh and Suzie will take care of Sunset Arms and will handle everything.”

     Oskar balked at that, “What? Why Mister Hyunh? What about me? I’m Suzie’s husband! Why can’t I also be the one in charge?”

     His wife just patted his left shoulder and said, “I think we all know the answer to that, dear. Just make sure YOU pay the rent on time, or I will be forced to evict you, and don’t think that I won’t just because I’m your wife.”

     The bum cowered at that while the room was littered with snickers of various pitches.

     Kyo sighed and asked, “Well, I guess everything has been set in motion. What exactly do we have to do, Doctor Antoine?”

     Esther took a folder from the table and began handing out sheets to the parents, “This is a list of the documents you’ll need to bring and sign, as well as the items required for the trip itself—”

     Martin was about to ask something, but his wife intervened, “No, honey, this won’t cost us much. Keep in mind that everything will even out with all the food Gerald won’t eat while he’s gone.” She smiled, trying not to snicker as her husband actually considered that.

     “Hey, what do you know? You’re right!” He eagerly read the list to see how he would have to adjust this month’s budget.

     Esther moved on to the Heyerdahls, and finally to Helga. As she gave the girl her copy of the list, she leaned down and whispered, “And yes, Helga, I’m going to need a _real_ signature this time, please, preferably of your father.”

     Nervously, the blonde girl stuttered, “Hey! That…that was a real signature, Doc!”

     Arnold, who was next to her again, added, “It really was, Aunt Esther. If she says it is, then it is. After all, I know I can trust her.” The boy smiled, and Helga thought she was going to spontaneously combust from the mixture of embarrassment, fear, nervousness, and the _love_ for Arnold that she was feeling simultaneously today.

 

     _Crimeny! Not only can that woman see through me, my beloved is practically in cahoots with me right in front of her face!!!_

 

     Moments later, Kyo said, “Well, let’s get to work, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to see who I think MIGHT be Arnie's father, check out my DeviantArt page: https://www.deviantart.com/iamthejam


	11. Chapter 9: Road to Puerto De Santa Clara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trip begins...

**NINE – ROAD TO PUERTO DE SANTA CLARA**

 

 

     It didn’t take long for the group to get all the documents and items needed. Gerald’s and Phoebe’s parents verified with Esther all the signatures that were required, and prepared the sleeping bags, tents, clothes for tropical weather, and all the toiletries that their children would use for the next two weeks.

     Also in the following days, Arnold continued to write the rest of his dream as he remembered more and more, though he didn’t share with the rest what he wrote down, mainly because he had already told them all the main points of it, but mostly because he remembered in full detail the moments where they had been imprisoned, the trek through the jungle and all the perils they faced, all the perils La Sombra faced and how he sacrificed his own men in order to get through the traps, the entire length of the fight between the villain and the kids, the incident at the bridge, and how the petty thief fell to his death, along with El Corazón, not to mention just how Arnold and Helga managed to start the machine, as well as what Arnold did to Helga right after everyone was reunited with their parents.

     He also tore out some pages and re-inserted them back in the notebook, since originally, he hadn’t written the dream in chronological order, and as everything became clearer and clearer in his mind, he could now assign the correct position of the events. Also, he taped the sheets back into the notebook to make sure they didn’t fall out.

     Another point of order was when Gerald, Phoebe, and Helga showed up at Sunset Arms with the “research” items that the Asian-American girl had mentioned before: cellophane sheets of various colours, a pair of blue and red 3-D glasses, and a black light lamp, as well as glass bottles, also of various colours. That day, in his room, the four took the map of San Lorenzo and overlaid it with the cellophane, hoping that the various colour filters, especially the green ones, would make any “invisible” ink stand out. They tried it with various colour combinations, they looked at the map with the 3-D glasses, they looked at it through the coloured glass—again, with emphasis on the green ones—and they even shone the black light lamp over it to see if any there was any “invisible” writing of any sort.

 

     Dejected, Phoebe turned off the lamp, sat back, and said, “Let’s face it, Arnold. Your parents and Eduardo may be great archaeologists and anthropologists, but they don’t know diddly-squat about cryptography.”

     The boy, on Phoebe’s left, banged his fists on his desk, startling the other three. “With all we found out before, I’m not surprised. I really am not…I guess I was hoping that my dad would have written SOMEWHERE the location of the village of the Green-Eyed People, or even the general area they live in. Though now that I actually see it for real, in my dream, the map seemed to get larger whenever we had to look closer at it, and it gave details that weren’t there before. And it _is_ kinda small to hold so much information, even if it had been written in invisible ink.”

     At Arnold’s left, Gerald noted, “Hey, don’t feel bad, man. At least we know that even _if_ La Sombra had got hold of this map, he would have never found the village, either.”

     At Phoebe’s right, the blonde girl quipped, “Puh. If that guy is as stupid as Michelle said he was, I doubt he would have been able to find the village if he had a satellite photo and a paved road that led toward it.”

     Arnold laughed, “Heh, you’re right, Helga. By the way,” he suddenly remembered. “Would you say you’re good at solving puzzles?”

     Yet another question out of left field, but the blonde girl replied, “Solving? I don’t know about _solving_ but I _might_ have _created_ a puzzle or two…uh…” _The acrostic poem that Arnold read in front of the whole class and she tore up at the last moment…rigging her locket so it would only open in a way known only to her…_ “…for my own enjoyment,” she added quickly.

     “Huh. In my dream, you were solving puzzles and avoiding traps left and right, as if you were Indiana Smith’s _mentor_. In fact, you were practically leading the way to the Green-Eyed People’s village because you were reading the map better than anyone else.”

 

     _Oh, my beloved, you believe that I am gifted with a monumental intelligence that would help you in finding your parents, you believe that I am just as smart as—or even smarter than—my dearest Phoebe, you want me for my BRAINS, not just my—_

 

     “Crimeny, Arnoldo,” she stopped herself from swooning just in time. “How in the name of Indiana Smith did your brain come up with THAT???”

     Hooded eyes stared at her briefly, and he replied, “I have no idea.” Then he moved to the next topic, “Say, does everyone have all their documents and stuff ready?”

     “Of course,” said Phoebe.

     “You bet,” chimed Gerald.

     “Um…sure…” murmured Helga. “I…already gave your aunt everything she asked for, and I have all my stuff ready in my house.”

     Her beloved looked at her, and quipped, “Whatever you say, Helga…”

     “Heh, sure…”

* * *

     _It wasn’t difficult for Helga to get all the documents Esther had asked of her: her birth certificate, Social Security registration, school documents, medical records, and such. After all, she knew perfectly well where they were: in a large folder on top of her closet. Long before she put them there, she practically had to fish them from the bookshelf they were carelessly tossed in, practically out in the open for everyone to see. She even had to dust them off and make sure they weren’t smudged before she carefully put them away. The tent, sleeping bag, and other travel accessories were in her attic, stashed haphazardly after several annoying “vacations” that included Olga, not to mention that disastrous camping trip with Bob and Phoebe in that RV where they met Arnold, Gerald, and Phil. She swiped various toiletries from Miriam’s hairdresser and bathroom; the woman hardly ever used them, mainly, whenever Olga came for a visit._

_The difficult part was complying with Esther’s request of getting BOB’s signature on all the liability waivers, travel releases, legal permissions, and all the Helpers for Humanity paperwork required._

_Looking at Big Bob sitting on the couch, in his bathrobe, watching his game shows, showed Helga that it wouldn’t have to be THAT difficult._

_“Hey, Bob.”_

_“Crimeny, Olga, don’t bother me, can’t you see I’m watching_ The Wheel _?”_

_“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you find that immensely important. Mister Simmons handed these out,” she waved the sheets for a moment, “and said you need to sign off the end of the school year and the start of the next, unless you’re planning on sending me to school in Europe or Timbuktu or something…”_

_Bob turned to his right and saw his younger daughter holding a black pen on her left hand, and on her right she held various documents, on top of which was her report card._

_With one eye, he signed off where Helga pointed at, and with the other he eyed the bonus round of the game show in front of him._

_“No, choose an ‘H’!!!” he barked._

_“Here,” Helga pointed._

_Sign._

_“A ‘W’? Are you crazy?”_

_“Here.”_

_Sign._

_“If you don’t choose an ‘M’, you’re a moron!”_

_“Here.”_

_Sign._

_“A ‘U’??? Who the hell ever chooses a ‘U’???!!!”_

_“Here.”_

_Sign._

_“Oh, come on, all those letters light up and you can’t guess it??? What’s the matter with you??? Did you even go to school???!!!”_

_“Here.”_

_Sign._

_“Whoa!!! You barely got it at the last second! You lucky dope, I bet I could guess twice as many puzzles with half those letters!!!”_

_“And here.”_

_Sign._

_“Thanks, Bob, enjoy your game.”_

_“Whatever.”_

_Her beloved might have complained about things happening with VERY convenient timing, but she knew, when it came to her parents, HOW to approach them with PERFECT timing._

_Namely, the moment Bob would be most distracted: during the bonus round of_ The Wheel _._

_But now, she had what Esther wanted, and she would give Bob what HE wanted: two weeks of silence from her, though she doubted he would even notice she was gone…_

* * *

     The next day, at Sunset Arms, Arnold’s grandparents had loaded up a red rental van, with Phil at the wheel, and were only waiting for Arnold, Esther, and Kurt to get in. The three, along with Arnie, were standing at the base of the stoop, and the rest of the boarders, as well as Abner, standing above them, ready to see them off, with the pig being firmly held in Mister Hyunh’s arms.

     Arnold told his cousin, “Take good care of my room, Arnie, and try to not mess it up TOO much.”

     Left eye blink, right eye blink. “I promise you will come back to a much cleaner room, Cousin. I collect lint, remember?” _Sniff._

     The boy with the tiny blue cap chuckled, “Of course, I can never forget that.”

     Left eye blink, right eye blink. “Though I am sure I’ll have an interesting time here. I’ll be taking Helga’s advice and see if Lila will take me back.” _Sniff._

     His cousin smiled. “I’m sure she will. She still likes-you likes-you.” The two hugged, and they walked up to Mister Hyunh and Abner. Arnold patted the pig’s head, and said, “I know you’ve been on a plane trip before, but it’s best if you sit this one out. Too many regulations concerning bringing pets on flights now.”

     The pig grunted and leaned into his master’s hand.

     “I’ll miss you buddy, but I’ll be back soon.” Arnold looked up to the Asian-American man, and added, “You have all the instructions on how to care for him, and the number of the vet, right?”

     “Of course, Arnold. You won’t have to worry about him at all. And Arnie will help us out, too.”

     Left eye blink, right eye blink. _Sniff._

     “Thank you, Mister Hyunh,” and with that, the boy with the blue cap waved good-bye to the boarders.

     “Why can’t _I_ take his room?” whined Oskar.

     “Ah, shut up, you bum,” replied all the boarders.

     As Arnold and Arnie walked down the stoop again, Esther and Kurt hugged their son. “We promise we’ll be back as soon as we can,” said the mother.

     Left eye blink, right eye blink. “Take your time. This is for Cousin Arnold, after all, and Uncle Miles and Aunt Stella.”

     “And don’t bring any girls to his room, okay? I’m sure he won’t like that,” quipped the father.

     _Blush._ Left eye blink, right eye blink. “Please, father, not in front of everyone.” _Sniff._

     The two doctors chuckled a bit and kissed their son good-bye.

     And as they boarded the van, Arnie and the boarders hollered their well wishes to the group, and didn’t go back inside until the red van was out of sight.

 

     In the van, Kurt said, “Here we go. Off to the bus depot, Phil. The others are waiting for us there.”

     “Not quite, sonny. We just need to pick up one more passenger.”

     “Who would that be?” asked Esther.

     Phil only smiled, and then Arnold did, too, as the van entered a familiar street.

* * *

     Helga locked her bedroom door with a key that only she possessed; she had decided to change the lock, with Phoebe’s help, once it was clear that she was going to be gone for quite a while. With a grunt, she lifted her backpack, hefted it onto her back, and trudged her way down the stairs.

     She glanced at the kitchen and saw Miriam passed out _AGAIN_ , and in the living room, Bob was taking a day off and watching even _more_ game shows.

     Scowling, she stomped to the front door, opened it, and hollered to whomever would bother to listen to her, “Bob! Miriam! I’m leaving now! Be back in August!!!”

     Her mother just groaned and shifted slightly, while Bob barked in return, waving her off with, “Yeah, whatever, stop making so much noise, Olga!!!”

     The girl _would_ have thrown a tantum, or even cried, if she had not expected those responses.

 

     _But she DID expect them._

 

     _And despite expecting them, they still HURT._

_REALLY bad._

 

     She slammed the door and trudged down to the sidewalk, but only got halfway down her stoop when two pairs of hands, one from an adult and one from a child, suddenly relieved her of her burden. Blinking, she looked up and saw that Kurt and Arnold had stepped out of the van to help her with her backpack and other luggage.

     For a moment, she was quite stunned, after all, never in her lifetime had _any_ adult _bothered_ to help her this way, and when Arnold smiled at her, she nearly melted.

 

     _Oh, Arnold, your grandparents have taught you well, but I can see chivalry runs in the family. Arnie is lucky to have a father like Kurt. I just hope Miles is just as good of a dad to you, or even better!_

 

     “Uhhh…thanks, you two. That was…gentlemanly of your part,” she said sheepishly, still not getting over the fact that _two **men**_ did her a favour.

     “Hey, you didn’t think we were going to let you carry that all by yourself, were you?” asked Kurt, as the three boarded the van, the adult in the middle row with his wife, and the kids in the back; Arnold at Helga’s left.

 

     _That’s what I’ve been doing for the past ten years…it’s all I’m used to…_

 

     “Uh…I dunno…with all I hear about ‘women’s independence’ and all that ‘liberation’ thing, I’ve kinda stopped expecting guys to hold the door open for me. But it’s a nice surprise, don’t get me wrong,” she smiled.

     Kurt nodded and faced the front, while Arnold whispered to his friend’s right ear, “I thought your parents were going to see you off at your door.”

     The display of courtesy and chivalry had definitely deflated Helga’s usual bravado, and all she could reply was, “So did I, Football Head, so did I…”

     Sadly understanding, the boy nodded, and the trip continued in silence.

* * *

     Gerald’s and Phoebe’s families were waiting for them at the bus depot, along with Michelle—who was holding a clipboard—and several other HfH workers. However, much to everyone’s surprise, they didn’t take any of the scheduled buses; instead, Michelle, Kurt, and Esther led the group to a corner of the parking lot where there was a red bus with the letters “HfH” emblazoned on its sides.

     “Wow, a charter bus? This trip just gets better and better!” said Gerald.

     “We’re a rather large organization,” smiled Michelle. Then she took Esther and Kurt aside to talk about some final details of the trip and check off some items on a list on the clipboard.

     All the luggage was then loaded at the bottom of the bus, again, with Helga not needing to do that with her own backpack.

 

     _Well, that’s ONE nice difference from that lame camping trip I took with Bob and Phoebe…_

 

     Just then, however, the parents hugged their kids good-bye, much to Helga’s chagrin, and the blonde girl turned away from the sight, lest it twist the knife in her heart even more.

 

     _Bob and Miriam would have done this with Olga…they DID this with Olga when she went off to college, and then Alaska…did they even WANT me? Was I even PLANNED? Or…_

 

     She looked at Arnold and Gerald.

 

     _…did they want a BOY???_

 

     A kind hand on her left shoulder snapped her out of her reverie, and Helga looked up to see Esther smile at her and nod in the direction of the door of the bus.

     The girl scowled and boarded the bus, and moments later the others did, too, except for Michelle, the parents, and three others, who simply stood aside to see the departure.

     With a final wave, Gerald and Phoebe said good-bye to their parents and to Michelle, and the bus drove off the parking lot, headed for the highway.

* * *

     It was a relatively short drive to O’Hare Airport in Chicago, and once the bus had parked, the whole group was again surprised when their luggage was loaded on a tow tractor that took it to another point on the tarmac. The travellers then walked into the terminal for the check-in and registration, but Arnold noticed that they didn’t step up to any of the booths of any of the airlines that serviced the airport.

 

     And he realised why.

 

     “Helpers for Humanity also charters planes, Aunt Esther?”

     “Not all the time, but since this is a rather large group that’s headed for Central America, we can avoid most of the regular red-tape of commercial flights and board directly.”

     He stood back at that. “What do you mean ‘large’? Isn’t it just us—?” He turned to gesture at his friends and grandparents. With his aunt and uncle, the total was seven, but his eyes widened when he saw a group of about fifty people behind them, all wearing the Helpers for Humanity blue shirt.

     Esther leaned down and whispered in his right ear, “You’re not the only Helpers for Humanity group who needs a ride today, dear.”

     Arnold blinked, shook his head, and sighed, “Of…of course. So,” he looked up at her, “the trip will be faster with a charter plane?”

     “That’s right. Our next stop will be Guatemala City, for refuelling, and then it’s a thirty-minute flight to San Lorenzo.”

     The boy realised something yet again, “So…there’s still at least ONE stop, even with a charter flight?”

     “Yes, why do you ask?”

     Arnold shuddered and sighed, trying to push down his frustration yet again. “Oh…just…curious about the whole thing.”

     Once his aunt had acknowledged that and turned away, he pulled out his dream journal, and wrote:

 

_Abner would have needed at least ONE stop, even if he had found the RIGHT charter plane taking off at the RIGHT time…_

* * *

     Esther was right, Arnold noticed. Since it was a charter flight, there wasn’t as much red tape as there were with commercial scheduled flights, but there was _some_ red tape nonetheless. One hour later, the group had boarded the plane, and were waiting for take-off.

     As Arnold walked inside and looked at the seats as they slowly filled, he stopped in the middle of the aisle, as if he were remembering something once more.

     “Something wrong, Shortman? Or does this remind you of something in your dream?”

     “That’s just it, Grandpa, it _doesn’t_ remind me of _anything_ in my dream, and it kinda makes me feel weird. This is a rather small plane, and in my dream, it was a much larger one. Also, it was the class, Mister Simmons, and Olga Pataki who boarded the plane, while you and Grandma stayed behind, so it’s kind of strange for you both to be going with us now.”

     The elder patted his left shoulder and declared, “Ah, don’t let that dream of yours get you down, Shortman. If anything, Real Life is going to be much weirder than whatever you can dream up!” He laughed for a moment, but then suddenly stopped. “And one more thing:”

     Both Shortmans said simultaneously, _“Never eat raspberries.”_

     Arnold just rolled his eyes as Phil bolted to the back of the plane.

* * *

      Charter flights don’t normally assign seats, so Arnold and Gerald sat on the left row, and behind them, Helga sat on the window seat, with Phoebe on her right.

     Since they didn’t need to stop at Los Angeles, Denver, Houston, New Orleans, Atlanta, Miami, or even Mexico City, the flight wasn’t _that_ long, just four hours in the air. And Arnold couldn’t shake off the feeling of strangeness and unfamiliarity throughout the flight, mostly because he wasn’t in a large plane with multiple rows, but a simple plane with just two rows and one aisle. He looked at his grandparents, his aunt, his uncle, his friends, and the rest of the Helpers for Humanity employees, and realised that neither Abner, nor Mister Simmons, nor Olga, nor the rest of the fourth-grade class were with him.

 

     And then he finally realised what the deal was.

 

     _This isn’t a dream. This is the REAL thing. This is REAL LIFE._

 

     Acknowledging that, he leaned back, and decided to enjoy Real Life.

 

     _For now…_

* * *

     A jolt snapped Helga out of her sleep, “Huh? Did you FINALLY bring home the groceries, Miriam?”

     “No, Helga, we’re only in Guatemala City for refuelling. We’ll wait here for an hour, and then we’ll fly to Santa Clara and arrive at around seven p.m.”

     The girl blinked and saw that Esther was now sitting next to her instead of her best friend, and that she was indeed still on the charter plane. She twisted her head a bit, realigning her neck. “Ugh…I hate falling asleep sitting down. Where are the others?”

     “They are here, just walking a bit and stretching. Do you want to do the same? Maybe get something to eat?”

     _This woman is getting a bit too friendly with me. What gives?_ “Ugh. Just wake me up when it’s time to leave, Esther.” Helga crossed her arms, closed her eyes, and fell back into her seat, hoping she’d fall asleep quickly enough.

     “Helga?”

     _Crimeny, just leave me alone, woman!!!_ The girl opened her eyes again and glared at the doctor. “WHAT.”

     Esther crossed her legs and smiled gently at her. “Helga dear, I know we just met. And I know Arnold trusts you with everything, but do you think you can trust me as well? I _am_ his aunt, after all.”

     “Yeah, you’re also the mother of that creepy kid who wouldn’t leave me alone the last time he came over for a visit. But…” she sighed. “You’re the one who set up all of this, just for Arnold, and his parents. What do you want me to trust you with?” she asked, raising the right half of her eyebrow.

     “Well, Helga, as a psychologist, and an anthropologist, I have seen too many times broken homes and negligent parents. You don’t have to pretend with me.”

 

     _Crimeny, she knows!!! She’s worse than Doctor Bliss!!!_

 

     “Pretend?” she asked nervously, starting to sweat, even in the air-conditioned cabin. “Um…pretend to be doing what?” she smiled sheepishly.

     “You really think I didn’t notice that your parents didn’t see you off, not to mention that I could smell alcohol in your mother’s ‘permission slip’, or that I heard your father call you by your sister’s name? I’ve also heard your stomach growling throughout the day, I’ve noticed your thin arms and legs, and I’ve also noticed that you seem a little paler than your friend Phoebe, even if she’s more fair-skinned than you.” She glanced at the girl’s bare forearms and the smooth skin there. “I’m glad that there aren’t any bruises, or none that I can see, at least.” She gestured at her covered upper arms. “Are there?” she asked tentatively.

     Helga glared at her nosiness, and snarled, _“NO, there aren’t any bruises ANYWHERE, ‘Doctor’, thank you very much!!! Are you happy now???!!!”_ She then looked out the window and added sadly, “As for the rest, well, I’ve learned to live with it.”

     “‘Live with it’? Helga, your mother is a textbook-case alcoholic!!!”

     She turned and glared at her again, “Yeah, well, it’s not like she’s the only one in town, you know.”

     “And both her and your father are borderline _criminally_ neglectful! If they had bothered to read in detail the notes I sent them, they would have noticed that they just gave you permission to travel _for the next five years_!!!”

     That was enough to make Helga widen her eyes, open her arms, and drop them on the armrests. _“SAY WHAT???!!!”_

 

     Inwardly, Helga rejoiced at the fact that she could now travel anywhere without her parents, or Olga, until she turned fifteen, but also felt crushed when she realised that her parents wouldn’t even care.

 

     Esther continued, “Helga, if you’re really, _really_ having problems at home, you don’t have to stand for it! You have rights, and you have needs that your parents MUST—”

     The girl waved her off, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know the whole spiel, Esther. Simmons told me, Wartz told me, Nurse Shelley told me, even PHOEBE told me, so I’ll tell it for you, but stop me if I’m wrong, of course.” With a fairy-tale voice, she recited, “ _Just call Family Services and everything will be solved in your favour, and everyone will live happily ever after._ ” The blonde glared at the brunette again, “But what they don’t know, and what YOU might not know is that if I call Family Services, they’ll take me away from my home, my school, from HILLWOOD, even, from my friends…” she shuddered, “…from _Arnold_ …and they’ll stick me in one foster home, and when they get tired of me, they’ll stick me in another, and another, and another, and I’ll be bouncing around the system for the next EIGHT YEARS, and then I’ll be kicked out in a ‘glorious’ welcome into the adult world.” She huffed, “I know all the facts, Esther, and don’t get me wrong: if Bob or Miriam ever lay a hand on me, I’ll be the first one to make sure that neither of them ever see me again, but…” She trembled with the same rage Arnold had several days ago but calmed down moments later. “Look, I know they’re not exactly Parents of the Year, but…but they’re MY parents, okay??? I mean, I have a roof over my head, I have food—whenever Miriam remembers to buy it—I have clothes, look, _I even have a_ _cell phone, for crimeny’s sake_!!! And I prefer _that_ than to be tossed around from house to house until I’m legally ordered to fend for myself, okay???!!!”

     Despite Helga’s rant, the doctor was unfazed. “And what you want is stability and familiarity, even though you know you’re suffering for not getting what you need, which is your parent’s love and attention. Helga, it doesn’t have to be that way!”

     “ _Doi, I know that!!!_ But tell me, ‘Doctor’, if you’re so hell-bent in taking me away from Bob and Miriam, then I suppose YOU know the PERFECT family who will take me in for the next eight years, who WON’T take me away from Hillwood, my friends, or Arnold, and who will make sure to remember my birthday every year, my current age, my full name, and send me to school with a full lunch???” An angry left finger pointed at Esther. “Because if you don’t, then I don’t want to hear another peep about this from you EVER, _is that clear_???” Helga was clearly huffing, and was working overtime to avoid raising her voice, lest she call _more_ attention to herself inside the cabin than she already was.

     Esther remained calm, just like Doctor Bliss did, and that also helped calm Helga down.

     Now that she had vented, the girl breathed deeply, crossed her arms again, turned back to the window, and murmured, “For what it’s worth, Bob played football day and night in high school and college…and he got hit on the head a lot. He…tends to get confused sometimes.”

     “And your mother?”

     “Miriam…she knows what to do if she wants to live a long life.” Helga turned slightly back to Esther, “She can be a _really_ good mom…when she tries…I…” She looked at her feet, “I just wish she tried more often.”

     Esther sighed in empathy. Helga wasn’t the first case of this kind she had encountered, so she knew how to handle it. She let the girl calm down for a few more moments, and then presented her solution. “What if I recommended your parents to a parenting seminar?”

     The blonde spat, “Oh, please. That might help for a week or two, but I guarantee you that they’ll return to their old ways soon enough…” she sighed, “…as if they had never been to that seminar at all…” Her blue eyes focused on the tarmac outside. “It’s happened before, you know.”

     The adult insisted, “Helga, I can make sure the change in them is permanent, for the good of _all_ of your family.” Gently, she placed her left hand on her right hand. “You really don’t have to continue living the way you have for so long! You can have something much better!”

     The younger snapped her head back at the elder, and pointed angrily at her yet again, “Oh yeah? Well, since you seem to know what’s best for me and Bob and Miriam, without even _bothering_ to have a long talk with them, then I’d first like to see a portfolio of all your ‘success stories’…IF you have any! Don’t you even THINK that just because Arnold trusts you as much as I trust him that I’m going to take _your_ word _just because you say that you can fix everything for me and have us live happily ever after_ …” Arms down. More huffing. “Esther, if anything, I have Arnold, Sunset Arms, and my friends. I’ve…been surviving just fine since I was three.”

     Esther’s heart broke here.

     “And I can hold out until I’m eighteen if I need to…and once I’m eighteen, I’ll be gone for good, and they won’t have to deal with me ever again.” She looked at her sad reflection on the window, “I know there are kids out there who are much worse off than I am. Let _them_ be bounced around the system, okay?”

     “I see you’re very passionate about what you want and need, and what you know you can do, with all you’ve accomplished so far.” Esther straightened up. “But you presented to me a fair deal.” Helga turned to her and raised the right half of her eyebrow in confusion. “You asked me to assemble a portfolio of ‘success stories’, so I will do exactly that, once we get home. But remember,” she squeezed Helga’s hand. “There are many, _many_ who _do_ care about what you want and need, and who _want_ to help you not have any burdens that someone your age shouldn’t be carrying. Helga, I’ll say this again: I know you trust Phoebe and Gerald and Arnold, and Phil and Gertie as well, _so you can trust me, too_.”

     The girl turned to see the woman smiling at her, with a smile she rarely saw Miriam direct at her. And she decided to call her bluff. “You do that, then. Assemble your presentation, and then we’ll see. But if you REALLY want me to trust you, you can start with keeping your creepy kid away from me, and then we’ll go on from there, _capisce_???”

     The doctor laughed, and replied, “ _Capisce_.” With that, the two females shook hands, just as the pilot announced that they were now going to prepare for take-off.


	12. Chapter 10: More Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prepare for more deconstruction and extrapolation!!!

**TEN – MORE FAMILY**

 

 

     The plane landed shortly before sunset, and as it taxied toward the terminal, Arnold was once again perplexed by what he was seeing.

     “Man, Arnold, it’s like, every time you turn left or right, somethin’ throws you for a loop. What is it now?”

     “The…San Lorenzo Airport…it’s _nothing_ like it was in my dream…in my dream it only had one large building, and this one has three _and_ a control tower…and are we going to walk through the tunnel to get into the terminal instead of climbing down to the tarmac?”

     Esther, who was sitting in front of him, explained over her left shoulder, “Don’t feel _too_ bad, Arnold, just about everyone who has landed at the San Lorenzo Airport lately has also felt a bit disoriented, and that’s because this terminal was remodelled a few months ago. The country has been scrambling to update itself now that the threat of a dictatorship is gone, and they are doing everything they can to modernise and be as tourist friendly as possible.”

     The boy asked his aunt, “And now they only have to worry about drug lords and treasure hunters?”

     “Unfortunately, yes, but things are looking up. Foreign investment has increased, tourism has increased, and education has increased. Slowly but surely, this country is moving up.”

     Arnold nodded, and then braced himself, since he had the feeling that Real Life and his dream were about to come head-to-head once more… 

* * *

     As he expected, the plane stopped next to the terminal, and the tunnel extended from the building and attached itself to the side of the plane, where the main hatch was. The passengers slowly filed out, and the group walked down the tunnel to the customs area.

     Nearly an hour later, they walked out to the main waiting room—

 

     —and Arnold almost gasped when he saw a group of some twenty people, all wearing the Helpers for Humanity shirt, waiting for them.

     Esther explained, “This is our welcome committee. Our team will be splitting up with them and they will be taken to various parts of the city and country, to their assigned—something the matter, Arnold?”

     The blonde boy had to lean against a wall as even more memories piled in. “In…in my dream, no one met us at the airport. We just arrived and we all…went to the docks at the river…that’s where La Sombra met us, but he was pretending to be Eduardo.”

     His aunt raised an eyebrow. “That’s certainly an arrival protocol I’ve never heard of, especially for a class who just won a contest. Really, Arnold, if Helpers for Humanity had sent an entire American school class here, they would have _at least_ been received by the head of the chapter here, as well as several assistants.”

     One more face palm. “Ugh…of COURSE.” Gerald, Phoebe, and Helga rolled their eyes at him, and moments later, he asked, “Where do we go from here, though? I doubt we’ll be going to the docks.”

     “First, we’ll go out to the parking lot to our bus, and make sure all our luggage was placed inside. Then the bus will take you to the hotel while I go to the Helpers for Humanity headquarters here and register our arrival. We’ll rest tonight, but before we head off to the jungle tomorrow, there’s just one last group of people who’ll be joining us.” She looked down and smiled at Arnold, “And I would like for you to meet them. I’m sure you’ll be great friends with them.”

     He blinked at her, and shrugged. “Okay, I’m in no hurry.” _I’ve been waiting six years for this, I can hold out one more day._

* * *

     Real Life very much hit Arnold in the face the moment he stepped out of the air-conditioned terminal building, namely, in the form of a wall of heat and humidity he had never felt before, and almost immediately, the boy who had never travelled further south than Washington D.C. was now practically drowning in the muggiest atmosphere he had ever experienced. All the others were also experiencing similar discomfort, and their light clothing—light for Wisconsin—wasn’t helping much, not even the fact that it was already night time.

     “Welcome to the tropics,” stated Esther. “The Gulf Stream flows right in front of us, and that’s why you are all experimenting _slight_ discomfort with the high humidity,” she chuckled. “But you’ll get used to it soon enough.”

     “Crimeny! I can hardly breathe!”

     “My…my glasses keep fogging up,” groaned Phoebe, cleaning her spectacles repeatedly.

     Gerald was trying to keep his tall afro upright, but the humidity kept sagging it. “Man, Arnold, I hope your dream was much more comfortable than this!”

     “It was. I never realised just how hot and muggy it could get in Central America during the summer…come to think of it, I don’t think I ever saw anyone of us sweating, even when we were walking through the jungle.”

     “I sure would like to be in that air-conditioned dream of yours right now, Football Head, doi!” And right now Helga wished she had chosen _much_ lighter apparel for this trip than her usual pink jumper and her white shirt.

* * *

     The itinerary went off without a hitch; the bus—a rather upper scale white tourist bus, which had the rear-view mirrors hanging on arms that extended from its font corners, giving it a slight insect-like appearance—was waiting with their luggage. Here, Arnold let Gerald have the right window seat and he sat on his left, while Helga and Phoebe sat behind them, with the shorter girl at the window. It took them from the airport to the main city. Arnold was again confused by what he saw; there were plenty of modern elements around: modern buildings, convenience stores, even international stores had found their way here, but there were also the colonial buildings; some of them seemed new, and some were old and decaying. It certainly was not the old Latin American city he saw in his dream, or, at least, they weren’t near that part of town.

     The bus stopped at a yellow two-story colonial building, perhaps half the size of the one in Hillwood, and there, Esther climbed out and gave instructions in Spanish to her assistants. As she stepped off, she hollered, “You’ll now be going to the hotel. Get comfortable and rest well, we have a long day tomorrow!!!”

     Arnold saw her walk into the Helpers for Humanity headquarters in San Lorenzo, and shook his head at how much his dream had missed.

     Their next stop was a four-story orange colonial building with large dark wood double front doors. The hotel wasn’t exactly five-star, but it had air-conditioning, hot showers, comfortable beds, and no mosquitoes, so no one complained, not even Helga. Still, with everyone noticing how confused he looked, they all decided to give him space and wait for him to get over the minor culture shock. Phil and Gertie slept in one room, Arnold and Gerald in another, and Helga and Phoebe in another.

* * *

     The following morning, everyone gathered their luggage and loaded it into the bus again. This time, everyone was ready with apparel fitting for a tropical summer. Arnold ditched his blue sweater and untucked plaid shirt and blue pants, and donned a light blue shirt and blue shorts. Gerald also set aside his red jersey and opted for a red basketball tank-top, also with the number “33” in it, and black shorts. Phoebe donned a light blue tank top and green shorts, and Helga almost looked like she was at the beach again, with her white tank top and pink Bermudas, though she wore brown hiking boots instead of sandals.

     Esther was already waiting for them, smiling, and they all climbed in and went on their way. The seating arrangement was the same as before, though with Esther and Kurt sitting directly in front of Arnold and Gerald.

     As the bus drove on, Arnold still felt numb at the conflict of the reality of what was happening with the memories of his _very_ realistic dream which was turning out to be not so realistic after all.

* * *

     The bus didn’t head toward the pier, or even to a highway that would lead them out of the capital; instead, the driver first led the bus to the colonial downtown area, which to Arnold seemed typical of any Latin American city. Then they drove south to what seemed to be a middle-class residential area, and then to an upper-class residential area. Here, all the houses looked freshly painted, all of them had trim front lawns, immaculate shrubbery and trees, there was no trash on the sidewalks or the wide streets, and just about every roof sported a satellite dish.

     “Huh. Guess not everyone in this backwater country is living in skid row,” said Helga.

     “That’s right,” smiled Esther. “Every country has the lower, middle, and upper-class areas; it’s unfortunate that all the movies and television series you see about Latin America only focus on the lower-class areas.”

     “It’s…all very confusing for me, Aunt Esther. “I guess I really was expecting everything to be poor and run down like I’ve seen on TV…and in my dream…are we going to pick up other Helpers for Humanity workers here?”

     Her smile was practically shining, “Oh yes, and I’m sure you’ll be _very_ glad and surprised to meet them.”

     He wondered why the people they were going to pick up were of his interest to meet, after all, he didn’t know anyone in this country.

* * *

     The bus eventually stopped at a large white house with an orange trim, again, with a well-manicured front lawn with two large trees for shade.

     Esther then stood and turned to her nephew. “Could you please come with me? I know you don’t speak Spanish, and I know you don’t know these people, but they have heard quite a thing or two about you.”

     He looked up, arching his left eyebrow now. “Who here has ever heard about me, except the Green-Eyed People? Have the Helpers for Humanity in Hillwood told everyone here about my parents and me?”

     “That’s right, but the people in this house have followed your story more closely than the rest. Now, come on.”

     With slight trepidation, the blonde boy stood and followed his aunt out of the bus, with the others watching them with wonder and curiosity.

 

     _Who else knew Arnold and his parents other than Eduardo?_

 

     They entered together the house’s front yard and stepped up to the front door. Esther rang the doorbell, and moments later, a typical Hispanic woman opened. She wore a long ethnic white dress with a flowery trim, small gold earrings, and black shoes. Esther and the woman spoke in Spanish for a minute; the native obviously speaking fluently while the American had a very heavy English accent and was stumbling on a verb tense or two.

     But before Arnold could tune out their conversation, he glanced inside and saw a picture on the wall nearby.

 

     _It was of EDUARDO._

_ON HIS WEDDING WITH THE WOMAN HIS AUNT WAS CURRENTLY SPEAKING WITH._

 

     The boy gasped and almost fell on his butt.

 

     His aunt turned to the boy on her right and said, “Arnold, I’d like you to meet—”

     “You’re—you’re Eduardo’s WIFE???” he squeaked, trying not to point at the woman in front of him, who just smiled and chuckled, obviously amused by the boy’s reaction.

     “That’s right, Arnold, this is Doctor Ingrid Dolores de la Cruz de García…” She paused for a moment as someone ran up behind Ingrid. “And this is her daughter, Hortensia.”

     The Hispanic girl had long black hair, like her mother, but instead of the traditional dress, she wore an orange t-shirt, blue pants, and sneakers. She was shorter than Arnold, and seemed to be the age of Timberly, Gerald’s younger sister.

     Everything was happening too fast for the boy. “Wait…so…so Eduardo lives HERE???”

     “Well, of _course_ he does, Arnold! Why would you think he would live anywhere else?

     Shaking his head, the boy explained, “Geez…in my dream, Eduardo lived alone, and his house was much smaller than this. It was in an alleyway, all…crowded against all the other houses, like those near the downtown area, and there was no front lawn, no room for a car, and it was…well…just run down, and it looked like it hadn’t been painted in years! But he lives here…???” Suddenly realising just WHY this was so, he said through another facepalm, _“Sheesh, OF COURSE he lives HERE, because both him and his wife are DOCTORS, ‘doi’…”_ He sagged, defeated once again by Real Life. “I feel more stupid every minute, Aunt Esther.”

     She patted his left shoulder, “Arnold, dear, you’re _not_ stupid, you’re just misinformed…and maybe you watch a bit too much TV,” she chuckled. “But think about it: how else could Eduardo afford to buy a plane?”

     He did a double-take at her. “What? That plane was HIS plane??? It wasn’t rented or leased? He OWNED the plane, and not Helpers for Humanity?”

     “Of course, but I can see you have a _really_ bad misconception of what Latin America is really like.”

     He sighed. “Like you said, Aunt Esther, blame movies and television.”

     “Now,” she explained, “I’m not saying there aren’t any places here like those you saw in your dreams— _after all, even American cities have them_ —but as you can see, progress is being made.” She then turned and explained something to the mother and daughter, and once she finished, they both laughed, making Arnold wonder if his aunt had just told them where he thought Eduardo lived.

     Then, Ingrid leaned down and spoke to Arnold, with him obviously not understanding a word, but she gestured to his head, and then to his eyes. She straightened up, and Arnold turned to Esther, silently asking for a translation.

     “She says that you remind her of your parents. You have your mother’s head, but your father’s eyes.”

     The boy looked at Ingrid, straightened up, and said, “Thank you.”

 

     _It was the only thing he could say._

 

     “Now, Arnold, Ingrid and Hortensia will be joining us in this search, since we’ll not only be looking for your parents, but also for their husband and father.”

     Another shock hit Arnold. He thought he had left behind all feelings of selfishness before, but now he saw that there were a still a few bits left to go. He looked at the floor in shame, and added, “Because…because I’m not the only one with missing parents.” He looked up at the woman and daughter, and with sad eyes, said, “I’m…sorry your husband…your dad…has been missing all this time, too…for a long time I thought only _my_ parents were missing…and that no one cared…but…but…” He straightened, and declared, “If…if we don’t find my parents, then I hope we can _at least_ find your husband, Doctor García.”

     Esther took a minute to translate what Arnold was saying, and when she finished, Ingrid was on the brink of bawling her eyes out. Suddenly, she leaned down and hugged the boy, much to his surprise, and said something in muffled Spanish.

     “‘We’ll find all three of them’,” translated Esther. “‘Just you wait. We’ll find my husband and your parents, and everything will be fine again’.”

* * *

     It took them a moment to recover, and eventually Ingrid and Hortensia picked up their small duffel bags they had prepared earlier, and boarded the bus with Arnold and Esther.

     When they did, though, Helga noticed that something was not quite right. “Quick, Pheebs! Sit next to Hair Boy, now!!!”

     “Huh, what?”

     “Just do it!!!”

     The girls scrambled to change seats, and Phoebe quickly flopped next to Gerald.

     He turned to her and asked, “What’s goin’ on? That’s Arnold’s—”

     “Just…just go with this, Gerald, please, and don’t say anything.”

     The problem was that as Hortensia walked behind Arnold, she was definitely giving him _the look_ , and little red hearts were practically popping out of her head, much like when the girls saw Arnold beat Wolfgang to a pulp.

     And right when the younger girl was about to grab the blonde boy’s hand, she collided with something _white and pink_.

     Looking up, she saw that Helga was blocking her path, arms crossed, and very much giving her a death glare.

     Arnold stopped and turned, wondering what Helga was doing with Eduardo’s daughter, and much to his surprise again, Helga almost shoved him into the window seat she had previously occupied. Quickly, she sat next to him on the aisle seat, and made sure Hortensia saw her holding Arnold’s hand, and almost clutch it to herself.

     The younger girl then realised what this speechless display was all about, mouthed something in understanding, and perhaps an apology as well, and moved on to sit next to her mother.

     Still as dense as ever, Arnold had no idea what had just transpired. “What?” he asked Helga, but not making any move to make her release his hand.

     “Oh, just trust me on this one, Football Head. You have a _lot_ better options for a summer romance.”

 

     _A summer WHAT???_

 

     He eyed the blonde girl for a moment, and shrugged, “Whatever you say, Helga.” However, he leaned closer, and added, “After all, _I trust you_.”

     She whirled at him, and almost melted at the lidded green eyes that were looking at her, and the half-smile he was giving her.

 

     _C…crimeny…_


	13. Chapter 11: In The Jungle, The Mighty Jungle...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start to get VERY intense...

**ELEVEN – IN THE JUNGLE, THE MIGHTY JUNGLE…**

 

 

     Mercifully, the bus started on its route right there, and everyone sat back to take in the scenery. This time, the ride was back to the airport, but they didn’t stop at the terminal, or next to the charter plane that was still on the tarmac receiving maintenance and getting refuelled. Instead, the bus stopped at a building that was a considerable distance from the main terminal, and when they all stepped out, they saw a large grey military helicopter nearby with double top rotors, obviously used for transporting troops.

     Esther walked up to who seemed to an old Hispanic military pilot, in full grey uniform, and after speaking to him in Spanish for a minute or two, she turned to the group and said, “We’ll be going by helicopter to the camp that’s been set up in the jungle, near the spot where the engine part was found. Normally we’d go by bus or by four-wheel drive vehicles, but this camp is a _little_ far away from the nearest town or village or highway. Now, everyone climb in, and we’ll strap you in and give you a pair of headphones, since this is going to be a noisy ride!”

     “Crimeny. This trip just gets more and more interesting, right, Football Head?”

     “I’ll say. In my dream, we just took a boat upstream because the camp was near a river.”

     “Real Life, man, Real Life,” quipped his best friend as he walked to the aircraft.

* * *

     It took thirty minutes to get everyone inside and strapped in, and make sure all their headphones worked correctly, or at least helped in keeping the noise levels down. It was a breeze for Phil, since he had flown in military helicopters before, and after a few hints and reminders, he strapped himself down on his wife’s left. “Heh, just like the trip to Berlin, right, Pookie?”

     “I wouldn’t know, I wasn’t there, Popsicle Chin.”

     Phil’s chuckling was lost as the rotors powered up.

* * *

     Naturally, everyone else who was flying in a helicopter for the first time was _very_ nervous when they took off and ascended higher and higher. Phoebe and Gerald clutched each other, Helga had Arnold’s left arm in a death grip, Hortensia and Ingrid clung to each other, and Gertie and Phil were almost asleep, apparently bored.

     They left the airport, and then the capital city, passing over small towns and villages, and eventually they flew over a seemingly endless mountainous jungle. It was here where Arnold’s dream finally concurred with Real Life, though he didn’t want to guess just _how_ much it concurred. Since it was noisy inside, he couldn’t talk to anyone without yelling, so he decided to continue writing down a few facts he noticed:

 

     _Abner would have needed to travel through ALL that jungle, avoiding predators AND greedy natives who would want to keep him as a farm animal—or a barbecue—and then he would have needed to get to the city AND the airport without anyone noticing him or running over him…_

 

     A half-hour later, everyone saw that they were approaching a clearing in the middle of a small valley that was surrounded by hills. On one side, there was a flagpole that flew the flags of San Lorenzo, Helpers for Humanity, and the International Red Cross, and there were many large grey tents near the edges.

     Everyone in the camp cleared the landing area, and the helicopter landed and shut down its rotors. Once they stopped and everything became quiet again, Esther stood in front of the group and removed her headphones. “This is the camp that Helpers for Humanity and the Red Cross set up, and it was these happy campers who found the piece of the engine that _could be_ of Eduardo’s plane. There’s already a team analysing the piece, and they’ll be telling us our next step in an hour or two. In the meantime, everyone step out, but don’t leave the camp. It’s a big jungle out there, you know.”

 

     It was a bit cumbersome to _un_ strap oneself and step out, but it wasn’t long before the helicopter was emptied. When Helga stepped out, though, she saw that Phil, Gertie, and Arnold had been suddenly surrounded by just about all the Helpers for Humanity workers, speaking in excited Spanish and a few phrases in broken English. If she didn’t know better, the Shortmans were practically celebrities among these people.

     “Wow, all these people knew my parents?” asked Arnold in the middle of it all.

     “Of _course_ , Arnold!” replied Esther, quite excitedly. “Or did you think that your parents worked alone? Most of these people were at your parents’ wedding, and some later came to visit you at the hospital after you were born!!!”

     That was yet another shock for Arnold; his father’s journal said that many people attended their wedding, but he never thought he would meet those who actually _did_.

     “Hey, I remember you!!!” exclaimed Phil, and began shaking hands with people he hadn’t seen in nearly a decade.

     Helga left the Shortmans to enjoy their fifteen minutes of fame and shake hands with everyone there. She then saw Gerald and Phoebe standing to the side, watching the whole spectacle with amusement, and with a bit of disappointment from Gerald, given that no one was paying attention to _him_.

     Then she noticed that Esther and Kurt had left the group and gone near one of the larger tents to speak with who was apparently the man in charge there, in Spanish, of course, so she had no idea what was being discussed, and moments later the couple and the man walked inside.

     The blonde girl turned to her friends and said, “Hey, Pheebs, Tall Hair Boy, let’s leave Arnold and his grandparents to enjoy their celebrity status, and see if we can get something to drink here. Come on, let’s go to where that Esther woman went to.”

     The Asian-American girl and the African-American boy looked at each other, shrugged, and decided to humour their friend.

 

     _Now let’s see what you actually_ found _, “Doctor…”_ thought Helga.

 

     They had barely started walking toward the tent when Esther suddenly ran out and yelled, “ARNOLD!!! PHIL!!! GERTIE!!! INGRID!!! THEY FOUND A SECOND LEAD!!!”

     The Shortmans stopped their handshaking, looked at each other, and ran to the main tent, with Arnold moving three times as fast as his grandparents, and Eduardo’s family close behind him. Gerald, Phoebe, and Helga ran along with Arnold, and the three almost tore down the entrance flap as they burst inside.

 

     Gasping, their sights were suddenly fixed on a large wooden table.

     On the left was a piece of metal machinery that none of the kids could identify; it was all gears and wires and fuses, all banged up and covered with dirt, but on the right, there was a long slightly curved grey metal sheet, obviously torn from a larger piece, labelled with what looked like large white lettering.

 

     Esther waited until Phil, Gertie, Ingrid, and Hortensia entered, and the elderly woman asked, “What? What did you find, dear?”

     The doctor explained, “As soon as the camp finished setting up to examine the piece of engine we have here, another team found this piece of fuselage that came from near the tail section. See the white letters there?”

     Gerald stepped closer and read, “S…I…nine…six?”

     “Or S- _L_ -nine-six,” added Phoebe, also stepping closer. “The bottom third of the letters is missing, so that vertical bar could be either an _I_ or an _L_ , but given the kerning—that means spacing between each letter—the bar is closer to the _S_ than to the _nine_ , so it’s more likely that it’s an _L_ , not to mention that there seems to be a hyphen before the numbers…” The girl trailed off as her eyes widened in realisation. She suddenly turned to Arnold’s aunt, “That’s…that’s a piece of the plane that had the licence number!!!”

     “That’s right, Phoebe…”

 

     Gerald smiled. _Man, I LOVE that girl!!!_

 

     “…And it _could_ be the licence number that Eduardo’s plane had.” The group then noticed that Kurt was holding a yellow folder, and he opened it to search among all the notes, documents, and pictures for one particular item. He pulled out a large colour photograph and held it out for the group to see:

     Miles, Stella, and Eduardo were at the airport, standing side by side, with Eduardo’s grey twin turbo prop plane behind them in full profile. And everyone saw that the licence number of the plane read “SL-961007”.

     Hortensia asked Esther something, but the doctor’s response wasn’t reassuring, not from the way the girl’s spirits seemed to deflate slightly.

     Phoebe didn’t speak Spanish either, but she had a very good idea of what had just been said, “You…told her that it _could_ be her father’s plane, right? But you can’t be sure until you find the rest of it?”

     Esther seemed to sag, too. “That’s correct, unfortunately. Now, the good news is that there’s a very good chance that it’s _at least_ a plane that was registered in San Lorenzo, hence, the ‘SL’ prefix, and it can’t be ‘SI’ because no aircraft registry country code starts with ‘SI’. As for the rest of the licence number, well, that’s where we come in.”

     “What do you mean?” asked her nephew.

     “What we mean is,” Kurt put the folder on the table, stepped behind it, and picked up a metal detector, “that we will join the rest of the team on the search.”

     “On foot?” asked Helga.

     “Yes,” explained Esther. “We will walk to the spot where the tail piece was found, and we’ll start searching there. Whatever plane those pieces belong to, it probably hit a tree as it was going down, breaking up just before it crashed…or crash _landed_ ,” she quickly amended when she saw the look on Arnold’s face. “I just hope there aren’t any ravines nearby; that would _really_ complicate things.”

     “Yeah, they would, wouldn’t it?” asked the blonde boy, also deflating.

 

     _This…this is it…if it isn’t Eduardo’s plane, then it’s back to square one, and we all go home with nothing changed. If it IS Eduardo’s plane…then…then I…then WE will finally know…huh?_

 

     Gerald, Phoebe, and Helga were suddenly surrounding him, having detected the start of one of his potential “meltdown” moods. Quickly, Arnold shook off the fear of doom, steeled himself, and asked, “Which…which way is it, Aunt Esther?”

     The woman couldn’t be prouder of how her nephew managed to control himself, and she was also proud of how his friends managed to show how indispensable they were for this trip. “West. It’s not far, but it’s not an easy trip.” She turned to her sister’s in-laws, and added, “Phil, Gertie, it’s going to be quite a hike, filled with hills and valleys. You two can stay here if you—”

     “Now, Esther, I may be old, but I was in the army, remember? I’ve handled long marches in the wind and snow, so I hope YOU can keep up with me!”

     “And I’ve been in a march or two myself, not to mention I liberated an abused animal or two,” added his wife. “I can handle this _cake walk_!

     The doctor almost chuckled, and quickly turned to a couple of the other workers, giving them Spanish instructions.

     And despite not speaking a word of Spanish, Arnold, Helga, Gerald, and Phoebe understood—from the way Esther was nodding toward Phil and Gertie—that the two workers were to keep an eye out for the elderly couple and bring them back to camp in case of any trouble.

 

     _Not to mention that this was verified by the way Ingrid and Hortensia giggled at the elders._

 

     “Very well, then, Phil,” said Esther, trying not to chuckle. “We’ll _try_ to keep up with you two.”

     “Darn tootin’!!!”

* * *

     Several minutes later, twenty adults, including Phil, Gertie, Esther, Kurt, and Ingrid, were on the edge of the clearing, with everyone, save Ingrid, holding a metal detector, and a few also carried shovels and pickaxes. Everyone, including the children, had their backpacks ready, having checked that they had plenty of food and water for the hike, but no metal detectors were given to the children since there weren’t enough.

     Esther then gave the workers some Spanish instructions, and then repeated herself for her family and Arnold’s friends, “Stick close to the group, don’t run, don’t approach any wildlife—not that any wildlife will want to stick around such a large group of humans—don’t grab any fruit from any shrub or tree, unless it’s a banana tree, and call for help as soon as you think you might be in trouble, okay? We’ll look for the plane until we find it, or until sundown. If we don’t find it today, we’ll try again tomorrow in another area. Now, let’s go.”

* * *

     The hike wasn’t exactly similar to the trek in his dream, and Arnold made sure to write that down. In his dream, they had started the march late at night and finished around noon, and they found their way through the dark jungle aided only by the glowing amulet. Here, the thick jungle was _somewhat_ dark, but since it was near noon, there was no need for artificial light. Still, there was the problem of high humidity, which never presented itself in his dream—save for Rhonda’s and Gerald’s hair—and Arnold made sure to make note of that.

     Helga, meanwhile, only wanted to complain. Her shirt was practically clinging to her sweat-drenched body, her pigtails hung limply from the sides of her head, and she had to constantly clear her eyebrow of the sweat that ran down her forehead. “Crimeny, Esther, just WHERE did you find that piece of airplane tail, anyway?”

     “From what my friends tell me, it’s still some two miles ahead of us…you’re not getting tired or hungry, are you?” she asked with genuine concern.

     “No…not yet, but I have plenty of food in case I do.” _A lesson well learned from that bio-square fiasco,_ she thought.

     The woman smiled, and then walked on her nephew’s right, noticing how he saw his grandfather easily keeping up with the front of the pack. “Arnold? Are you feeling confused again?”

     The boy shook himself for a moment, and explained, “Well…I guess I just thought that the jungle would be…well, darker and thicker, but then again, in my dream, we were all travelling at night.”

     “You probably dreamed you were in the valley area. Here, in the mountain area, the jungle is somewhat thinner, than, say, the Amazon, or whatever other jungle you might have seen on movies or TV.”

     He huffed. “Of course. The jungle in my dream was a lot like the Amazon because that’s the one I’ve seen most.”

     “Uh, say, Doctor Antoine,” said Gerald on their right, trying, but failing, to not seem nervous. “I know what you said about wildlife earlier, but…we’re not in any danger of being attacked by…oh, I dunno… _jaguars_?”

     This time, Phoebe, Helga, and Esther chuckled at his question. “No, Gerald. Like I said before, all wildlife, including predators, avoid humans, especially large groups of humans _carrying long metal poles_. Besides, they normally come out at night, and we’ll be back in camp long before then.

     The spectacled girl leaned closer to the boy she fancied, and whispered in his right ear, “ _I KNEW I should have brought my fencing sword. But I’m not worried, Gerald, I know you’ll protect me from whatever predators there may be nearby.”_

     That seemed to boost the African-American’s confidence, and he continued his march with a definite swagger, eliciting discreet chuckles from his friends.

* * *

     The hike continued over several hills and valleys, still heading west, but it wasn’t until one of the workers stepped up to Esther and told her something in Spanish, that she stopped, making the rest of the group halt as well. She called out more Spanish instructions, and the workers turned on their metal detectors. She then repeated herself for her English-speaking friends, “We’re now in the area where they found the piece of fuselage with the licence number. We’ll turn on the metal detectors now and spread out to see what else can be found in this area. It may not seem like it, but we’re near the point where Ed—where _a_ plane likely crash-landed.” Again, she caught herself on time, and she, Phil, Gertie, and Kurt turned on their metal detectors.

 

     _This is it,_ thought Arnold. _We’re finally at the REAL place where Helpers for Humanity is actually helping. Not exactly how I dreamed it, but at least we’re not being chased upstream by those who COULD have helped us, not to mention…_

 

     “Aunt Esther, are there any rivers nearby?”

     “Huh?” She turned off her metal detector for a moment. “Oh, yes. Río Claro is the country’s main river, and yes, it’s complete with a waterfall or two, but we won’t be crossing it, or any other river, any time soon.”

     “Is it wide enough for two river boats to sail side-by-side? Like, wide enough for two police boats?”

     The woman thought for a moment, and replied, “Yes, the river is wide enough for that. Did your dream also include that?”

     “Yes. After we met La Sombra—in disguise—at the docks, we all went aboard his river barge and he took us upstream to where the Helpers for Humanity camp was supposed to be—”

     “Really? Did the barge had the HfH logo?”

     _One more facepalm._ “Ugh…NO…I can’t believe I missed that, too…”

     “Arnold, _all_ Helpers for Humanity ships, planes, cars, and buses are clearly marked. You’d best be careful if someone tells you that their boat belongs to our organization.”

     “You’ll…you’ll have to forgive me, Aunt Esther. For a long time, I thought Helpers for Humanity was…well…um…they…that they didn’t have as many resources as they do, because…it’s all _volunteers_ , right?”

     She chuckled, “Oh, it is, but we get an incredible amount of donations from philanthropists, millionaires, government social programs, and many times our work actually turns up a profit, which goes right back into the organization. The government of San Lorenzo is quite keen in helping us with whatever we need, because they know that our work will result in an increase in tourism and in their general economy.”

     “Yeah, and the last thing they need is for a river pirate to kidnap an American school class just to get at me.”

     “Really? And in your dream, nobody tried to stop Lázaro Somoza Bravo?”

     “Well, the police did. They came up on their own boat and tried to stop us, but the problem was that we didn’t know they were the police. La Sombra tricked us into thinking that the police were the river pirates instead, and we fought them and escaped.”

     “How did he manage to do that? Wasn’t the police boat MARKED as a police boat? You know, painted white and blue with the words _POLICÍA_ or _GUARDACOSTAS_ on the sides and with flashing lights and sirens blazing? No one calling out on the PA system and saying—in English or Spanish—‘Stop, this is the police!’ or ‘Stop, this is the coastguard’?”

     The boy trembled in rage once more. “Grrrr…NO!!! It was just a white yacht, no lights, no blue paint, no markings, not even a bull horn! And no one ordered us to stop or anything—they didn’t even have guns!!!”

     She calmed him by placing a gentle hand on his right shoulder. “Arnold, it’s understandable that you’d think that a third world country wouldn’t have modern—or even clearly marked—police equipment and vehicles, but every country with a coastline and major waterways have a sophisticated coastguard on patrol; in fact, the coastguard was the first thing that the San Lorenzo government updated and renewed recently. And we helped them out with that. Here, let me show you…” The woman put down her metal detector and pulled out her wallet from her pocket, and from it she took a small picture, which showed the actual riverfront of Puerto de Santa Clara, and two boats anchored to the docs, with several people standing both on and in front of them. “This was taken after we helped clear the river of trash. The boat on the left is a Helpers for Humanity barge, and the one on the right is one of the San Lorenzo coastguard’s patrol boats.”

     Arnold took a closer look and saw that the small barge on the left was blue with the HfH label on the side, and the white and blue yacht on the right was clearly marked and equipped with sirens, flashing lights, and an ARMED crew. He then leaned back against a tree, tilting his head back and closing his eyes in frustration. “The…the boats I saw in my dream…they…they were all wrong…they…they weren’t…” He opened his eyes and looked at his aunt with angst-filled eyes, _“They weren’t REAL…none of it was!”_

     She placed a gentle hand on his right shoulder again, “But now you know what is real and what isn’t, Arnold. And now you know that whatever happens now, you won’t wake up again and find yourself starting from zero, like you did in your dream.”

     “I…I know,” he sighed. “It’s just that…more and more…it feels like my dream was nothing but a cheap Hollywood movie that went straight-to-video.”

     This time, Esther laughed openly, and that made Arnold laugh as well. “I hope you and your friends managed to burn those movies that caused that dream.”

     “Oh, we did. We did.”

     Esther nodded and turned on her metal detector, while Arnold continued writing in his journal, though this time, it was with a hint of a smile.

* * *

     As the team continued to search for anything made of metal, they came up to a thin tree that had a long and wide pink ribbon tied to it. Phoebe blinked at it, and asked, “Doctor Antoine, is this where you found the piece of the fuselage?”

     “Yes, Phoebe, and the piece of engine was found several hundred yards from here, but it was a miracle that we found both. When we got our last lead several months ago—when Arnie visited you the first time—we found what seemed to be an instrument panel, but it turned out to be from the wrong plane.

     The studious girl added, “And, at the speed the tropical foliage grows back, the jungle would have covered any damage done to it when both planes went down before any search crews could reach this spot in particular.”

     “Exactly. Still, with no rivers or ravines nearby, any debris left from the plane should still be nearby…somewhere.”

     Phoebe cleaned her glasses again, “But didn’t the plane have an emergency radio beacon? It should have continued sending a signal for at least one month after the plane cr—er— _went down_.”

     “Or maybe the radio beacon somehow ended up in the river and washed out to sea. The odd thing is that no search party managed to find any signal whatsoever.”

     “Hmm…that _is_ strange,” pondered the short girl.

* * *

     The search with the metal detectors continued for another hour, with no results. The Shortmans, the kids, and Eduardo’s family chose to stay with Kurt and Esther, opting for being close to what was familiar in the middle of an imposing jungle.

     Arnold, Helga, Gerald, Phoebe, and Hortensia decided to rest and sit on a large rock next to a steep hill, and they saw Arnold’s aunt and uncle pacing back and forth, trying to make sense of the situation.

     “The plane couldn’t have broken apart in the air,” she said.

     “But even all the growing vegetation in the world can’t hide something so large in such a short time,” he added.

     “Still, if parts of it have been found here, then the rest of it should _also_ be here. This isn’t the Bermuda Triangle, after all—”

     “Actually,” Phoebe interjected, with all her friends rolling their eyes at her, “The Bermuda Triangle is a point of convergence in the Earth’s magnetic field, and as such, it causes a lot of problems in unshielded electronic equipment, but modern shielded electronic equipment works just fine. And the reason why some ships disappear there is because sporadic gas upwellings make the water bubbly and less buoyant, so the ships sink without warning. I haven’t checked if this place is also near a point of convergence in the Earth’s magnetic field, but even if it was, it wouldn’t be enough to make a plane disappear, or even the _remains_ of a plane.”

     Kurt continued, “She’s right. And we’re too far away from any village for any scrap scavengers to have come here and taken the plane apart.”

     Esther rubbed her head with both hands, “Then where is it? It’s not in the sky, it’s not on the ground, it’s not in the river, so the only other place it could be is—”

 

     A volunteer’s metal detector began beeping VERY loudly.

 

     Everyone turned to see what the racket was about, but they were all confused when they saw that the detector wasn’t pointing at the ground, but at the tree that was next to the rock where the children were sitting.

 

     “Underground?” finished Phoebe, not quite willing to give credibility to that last option.

     Arnold stood and walked up to the tree. “Aunt Esther, do some trees here have a high metal content?”

     “No…” she replied, also approaching the tree. “No…” she pondered, her head finally clearing itself of all confusion and mystery. “No! The detector isn’t getting a reading on the tree, it’s getting it of what’s BEHIND the tree, inside the hill!!! There IS something underground, Phoebe!!!”

     The Asian-American girl blinked and straightened her glasses. “R-really?”

     Before her friends could compliment her on her deductions, Esther gave a loud whistle, making the rest of the team stop what they were doing and converge next to the hill. She also pulled out a CB radio and explained the situation, in Spanish, to the base camp, and then ordered the workers to start digging at the hill.

     “Well, Pheebs, whatever is under the hill, it’s obviously something big,” said Helga. Then she saw Arnold running around the group, asking if he could borrow a shovel, obviously eager to join in the task of unearthing whatever was buried there. Scowling, the tall girl walked up to him, grabbed his arm, and pulled him away.

     “Helga, what—?”

     “Football Head, I know you’re eager to help out, but there aren’t enough shovels for everyone. Now, for once, just stand back and let the grown-ups do all the hard work.”

     “O…okay, Helga.” He sighed and just looked at the adults as they dug at the base of the hill, and eventually the thin tree was uprooted and pulled out of the way.

 

     He wondered how long it would be until anyone found anything, but it was right there when everyone heard a loud CLANG.

 

     “Yup, there’s _definitely_ somethin’ huge made of metal under there,” said Gerald.

     Helga rolled her eyes again. “Thank you, EINSTEIN.”

 

     The team eventually unearthed something VERY large, somewhat flat and a bit curved, covered with dents, and one worker saw some lettering on the metal, so he pulled out a rag to clear it of all superficial dirt.

     “One-zero-zero-seven,” read Esther, as if the white letters that had been uncovered was the unveiling of the Holy Grail. She took her backpack, opened it, and pulled the piece of fuselage that had been found before nearby. The woman walked up to the remains and held the piece against the unearthed fuselage.

 

     Like two parts of a puzzle, the pieces fit perfectly.

 

     “SL-961007,” she said. Then, she turned to her husband, and whispered, “Kurt, we found the plane…”

     It was Phoebe’s turn to facepalm. “Of course! Whatever caused the plane to go down and crash land, it stopped next to this hill, and soon after, a mudslide buried it, blocking all signals from the emergency beacon! It didn’t take long for the jungle vegetation to cover—”

     “WE FOUND THE PLANE!!!” yelled Arnold, his eyes wild with excitement, and he ran to the hill to practically dig the dirt with his hands.

 

     _It was all he could do at this point._

 

     Hortensia, too, realised that her father’s plane had been found, so she joined in with the boy who was unfortunately already taken, and with cries of _“¡Papá!”_ she did what she could to remove as much dirt as she could. Even her mother joined in, also quite desperate to find out what had happened to her husband.

     Seeing that there was no more point in just being “non-contributing spectators”, Helga, Gerald, and Phoebe also began digging with their hands at the pile of dirt.

 

     With so many people digging everywhere, it didn’t take long for the remains of the plane to emerge from the hill of dirt that had covered it for six years. The wings and tail section had broken off and were obviously buried some distance away, but the group concentrated on the long metal tube in front of them…

 

     …and they unearthed the HATCH…

 

     When Arnold saw it, he flung himself at it and practically clawed at it, struggling to remove any blockage, as well as trying to _open it_. When Ingrid and Hortensia also saw the hatch, they, too, clawed at it, yanking and tugging at the opening lever, and putting all their weight into it, since once inside, they would finally solve the mystery of what had happened to their families.

     Suddenly, strong hands grabbed Arnold’s arms and pulled him away from the plane, and even more hands pulled away the women.

     Momentarily confused, the boy saw that Esther, Kurt, and his grandparents were pulling him back, while several workers were doing the same with Eduardo’s family. “What?” he demanded. “What’s going on???!!! We have to get the hatch open, guys—!!!”

     “ARNOLD!!!”

     His aunt’s harsh scream silenced the whole group. Breathing deeply, Esther continued, “Arnold, we’ve talked about this before.” She leaned down to speak eye-to-eye. “The reason why your parents and Eduardo may not have been found until now could be…” She trailed off, not wanting her voice to crack, and she shut her eyes tightly to stop any tears from flowing.

     Coming back from his frantic high, her nephew suddenly understood. “Because…they might still be inside the plane…” he whispered sombrely. _And six years later, there wouldn’t be much left of them…_

     Seeing how everything came to a standstill, Helga could only ask one thing, “Well, now what do we do?”

     Esther straightened up, walked to Ingrid and Hortensia, and apparently repeated to them what she had just told Arnold. The two looked at her, nodded sadly, and stood next to Phil and Gertie, holding each other, not caring that they were covered with dirt. Then, Esther stepped next to the hatch, and asked the team something. Moments later, one dark skinned man raised his hand, and approached the door with his pickaxe.

     As he worked to pry the hatch open, Stella’s sister walked to her family and friends, and explained, “My friend Jorge volunteered to try to open the hatch and see what he can find inside.” She turned to the Shortmans, and shuddered, “Arnold, Phil, Gertie, if Miles and Stella and Eduardo are still inside…” She had to pause. “I…I don’t want your last memory of them to be of whatever is left of their bodies. That…that is why I didn’t let Ingrid nor Hortensia go inside, either, and…and that’s why…” She held her husband’s left arm _very_ tightly. “That’s why I couldn’t bring myself to go inside, either, and see what would be left of my sister…” She could say no more, and only lowered her head and clung to Kurt, who could only hug her firmly.

     Helga was the first to hold Arnold tightly, then Gerald did the same, and Phoebe put an arm around both boys, again ignoring the fact that they were all covered with dirt. Phil and Gertie then stood behind their grandson and also placed reassuring arms around him and his friends, and waited.

 

     It didn’t take long for the pickaxe to make short work of the rusted lock and hinges. Jorge pried it open and it fell off, leaving the entrance clear for him to enter.

     As he did, the tall girl realised that she _had_ to say something, _anything_! “Ar…Arnold…” she stuttered. “Whatever happens…” She looked into his green eyes, almost losing herself in them. “Whatever he finds in there…remember, we’re still here…we’re your friends…and family…we won’t abandon you…ever…just…you’ve been so strong for so long…for us…the class…the school…the boarding house…the neighbourhood, even!!! Pl-please…be strong…be strong for _yourself_ now…but if you can’t…let _us_ be strong for you—”

     Her words of comfort were interrupted when Jorge called out from the door.

     Everyone hushed even more, until Esther spoke, “He…he just said that there’s lots of dirt inside and it’s hard to move. He asked for a shovel.”

     Another man gave him a shovel and he went back inside, and now the group could hear digging noises from inside.

 

     “We’re here for you, man,” said Gerald.

 

     More digging.

 

     Phil said, “Arnold, like your friend said, we won’t ever abandon you…well, not deliberately, but you know what we mean.”

 

     Others continued digging and eventually uncovered the nose and the cockpit windows, and there they could see that plenty of dirt had managed to fill up the windows from inside.

     The waiting was unnerving. With what reduced space there was inside the fuselage, it took Jorge quite a while to clear a path for himself, and he, too, was steeling himself for whatever—or whomever—he would find in the cockpit.

     It took him nearly an hour to reach it, and everyone turned when they saw him dig a space behind the window and finally open it after six years. He then called out, and went back inside.

     “He said to stand by. He’s in the cockpit, but there’s dirt everywhere and he has to dig it all out to even find the seats,” said Esther, still holding her husband tightly.

 

     Arnold looked down and waited, and waited, and waited, bracing himself for the worst-case scenario, after all, Real Life had practically left him flat on the sidewalk, much the same way he did to Wolfgang, and he was waiting for the final blow that would end everything…

 

     _…end the six years of angst, pain, sorrow, frustration, and uncertainty…_

 

     He looked around at the rest of the team, and saw how they also waited with baited breath—

 

     —and one of them, with a Red Cross band on his left arm, had taken his backpack and opened it, but didn’t pull anything out. Instead, he just stood there, sombrely, looking like he was waiting to be called upon, with a face that made him look like he ran a…

 

     _…a funeral home?_

 

      Arnold looked carefully at the contents of the backpack—

 

     _Body bags._

_In preparation for ANY eventuality, the team brought along BODY BAGS—_

 

     Arnold forced himself to look away and focused on the wrecked plane in front of him.

 

     Jorge kept digging.

 

     Helga held her beloved tighter.

 

     The digging stopped, and everyone held their collective breath.

 

     A dirty and sweaty Jorge emerged from the hatch again, and shouted, _“¡No hay nadie adentro!”_

* * *

_Author’s note: If you know Spanish and understood that last sentence, don’t spoil it for the rest. If you DON’T know Spanish and are thinking of using a translator program, could you PLEASE NOT do it and wait until the next chapter? Or if you still do it, PLEASE don’t spoil it for the rest!!!_


	14. Chapter 12: Culture Shock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More cliffhangers here!!!

**TWELVE – CULTURE SHOCK**

 

 

     Arnold wondered why Ingrid and Hortensia looked at the man with total surprise while his aunt sighed in relief, so he forcibly detached himself from his friends and grandparents, flung himself at Esther, and demanded, “WHAT??? WHAT DID HE SAY???”

     She seemingly ignored his frantic question and asked Jorge instead, _“¿Nada ni nadie?”_

     The man shook his head.

     The brunette looked at her nephew and explained, “The cockpit…the whole plane is empty. There’s no one inside!”

     The man with the body bags sighed in relief and closed his backpack, glad that no one would need its contents.

 

     _For now._

 

     Arnold couldn’t believe his luck.

 

     _But…did my parents…and Eduardo…survive? And if they did…where are they?_

 

     He was so absorbed in his inner confusion and turmoil that he didn’t hear Jorge continue to explain what he found—and didn’t find—inside, and his report seemed to confuse Arnie’s mother.

     “Strange. There are no bodies inside, but neither are the medicine packages. Just what on earth happened here?”

     Phoebe stepped forward a bit, and deduced, “If there are no bodies inside, then Miles, Stella, and Eduardo survived the crash.” There was no more need to mince words now. “They shouldn’t have been seriously injured if they managed to unload all the medicine, but once they did, the plane was suddenly buried in a mudslide…hmm…” She looked at the Antoines and stated, “If the mudslide happened shortly after the crash, then perhaps the plane went down because of a very heavy storm that overwhelmed even Eduardo. Still, if they managed to get all the medicine out, they _might_ have been able to take it to the Green-Eyed People and stop the epidemic…”

     “But that doesn’t explain why they didn’t come back, Pheebs.”

     Esther hugged her nephew and added, “Let’s hope that they managed to get the medicine to the Green-Eyed People on time. Though I am relieved that no one here had to see three bodies; it wouldn’t have been a good impression for five wonderful young minds,” she smiled.

     “Yeah, Football Head. That would have been a sight no Hollywood horror movie would have been able to top.”

     “True, but the alternative isn’t exactly better, you know.”

     Kurt patted his nephew’s right shoulder, “You mean finding an entire village wiped out by a disease in a scenario not seen since the Spaniards sieged Tenochtitlán? Arnold, I know you haven’t had much reason to feel optimistic, but we’ve come this far, so maybe, just _maybe_ , your parents and Eduardo somehow managed to pull it off. As to why they are still missing, well, we’ll solve this mystery one step at a time.”

     “But what IS the next step, Doctor Antoine?” asked Gerald.

     Esther sighed and pulled out her CB radio. “Now we tell the base camp that we found Eduardo’s plane, and we’ll set up markers so that the authorities of San Lorenzo can come and file the official reports and restart the investigations; perhaps they will find the real reason why this plane went down. And eventually, it will be up to them to get the plane and properly dispose of it.” She looked at her radio, happy, yet still feeling as empty as the rest of her family. “The good news is that we found Eduardo’s plane. The bad news is that we still have no idea where Miles, Stella, or Eduardo are…”

     Helga repeated, “We know they left the plane and took the medicine with them. They obviously went to the Green-Eyed People’s village.”

     “Or at least they went in their general direction,” added Phoebe.

     “But only my parents knew where it was…did they even reach it?”

     “Or maybe they were found by river pirates? Maybe river pirates brought the plane down?” asked Gerald. Despite providing a rather dark scenario, Arnold didn’t complain.

 

     _After all, it was DEFINITELY a possibility._

 

     The African-American continued, “Even if they had no treasure or money with them, and only had the medicine, the pirates could have followed them to the village and tried to loot the place…”

     “Or maybe,” said Arnold, finally. “Maybe something happened when they found the Green-Eyed People…”

     “You mean like in your dream?” asked Kurt.

     “Maybe…by the time they got to the village, the Sleeping Sickness got to them, too…In my dream, all the adults of the Green-Eyed People, as well as my parents, had the Sleeping Sickness and were in a coma, but all the children were okay—”

     “Huh?” asked his aunt. “Why would they be okay? Arnold, the Sleeping Sickness affects even _insects_ ,” a pink butterfly flew nearby, as if to make the point. “And if it affects insects and wildlife, there’s no reason why _children_ would be immune to it.”

     Yet again, the oblong-headed boy trembled with rage, but his facepalm was interrupted by the tall blonde girl, who caught his arm on time.

     Before he could ask, she said, “Keep facepalming and you’ll make your face cave in, Football Head. Let…let _us_ do that for you now.”

     Grunting, he replied, “Fine. But I’m REALLY starting to hate my own subconscious now.”

     As agreed, Helga, Gerald, and Phoebe facepalmed for Arnold while he angrily wrote down more notes in his dream journal. He snapped it shut and added, “Like I said, my dream obviously had a lot of influence from movies and pizza, so I guess that the children being immune to the Sleeping Sickness isn’t exactly logical. But still…” He turned to his extended family, “Uncle Kurt, Aunt Esther, did my parents ever tell YOU where the Green-Eyed People’s village was?”

     Esther was broken hearted again when she saw her nephew clutching at straws.

 

     _So close, yet so far. I’m sorry, Arnold._

 

     “No.” The child in front of her sagged again. “Your mother just told me that the Green-Eyed People were _very_ shy and secretive, almost as if they don’t _want_ to be found, not after La Sombra stole so much from them. But look.” She placed another comforting hand on his left shoulder. “This time, the lead is NOT a dead-end. We still have plenty of sunlight left, so we’ll get back to camp with no problems at all. We’ll let the authorities of San Lorenzo re-start their investigation, and they’ll bring in specialised equipment to search for your parents and Eduardo. They might take a while, so in a short time we’ll all return to Hillwood, not empty-handed, but with the real hope that your parents and Eduardo are somewhere out there, _because they are NOT here_. And whether the Green-Eyed People are found in the process, well, that’s unlikely, since only your parents were able to find them—”

 

     Suddenly, a male voice called out from the middle of the jungle.

 

     Everyone turned and saw someone emerge from the foliage.

 

     He was a male adult native, dressed in what Kurt and Esther identified as an outfit similar to what the ancient Mayans wore, namely, a brown loincloth and a belt, with cloth bands on his wrists and ankles. The native’s skin was dark brown, almost copper, and he had straight black hair in what seemed like a bowl cut, but his eyes—

 

     _His eyes were emerald green, which seemed to sparkle in contrast with his dark skin._

 

     He was also carrying a long stick with what seemed like black tar on the tip. It wasn’t a spear, so no one felt uneasy or threatened, but instead, shocked and awed at a discovery the likes of which had not happened in five hundred years.

 

     _A Green-Eyed!!!_

 

     “—or, it would be _them_ who would find us instead,” finished Esther.

     The man approached the group rather excitedly, and from the way he was speaking, he was also quite amazed at having made his discovery of the group.

 

     And for the first time, both Kurt and Esther were at a loss when dealing with languages.

 

     The woman looked around and asked, “Um…does anyone understand what he’s saying?”

     The rest of the team was also at a loss, and they could only shrug and shake their heads.

     The only one who could provide any type of answer was Kurt, “He seems to be speaking a mix of Old Mayan and Southern Keltic, but I can’t be too sure.”

     “I wonder if my parents were the only ones who were able to learn their language,” pondered his nephew.

     “They probably were,” continued Kurt. “If we don’t find them, the only way we’ll be able to understand him is if we get several linguists here to get a written and audio registry of their language.”

     The native, meanwhile, was looking closely at several members of the team, but he stopped and gasped when he saw Arnold.

     Naturally, the boy stood back when he saw that the native was looking at him as if…as if…

 

     _As if he had seen him before?_

 

     The native then turned to Esther and smiled widely when he brought his hand up and gestured at the woman’s head.

     Turning to Phil and Gertie, he smiled even more widely.

     Next, he turned to Hortensia, and he suddenly gave an excited cry; his smile was practically taking up half of the circumference of his head. He gestured to the elders, and Hortensia, to come to him, and then grabbed Esther’s and Arnold’s hand and tried to pull them into the jungle.

     Naturally, the woman and the boy resisted, and protested his impertinence with a double “Hey!!!”, struggling to free themselves from his strong hands.

     Just then, Phil stepped up and put a hand on the shoulders of Esther and the native, stopping the two. “You know, Esther, I don’t speak his language either, but I have the feeling that he wants you…and all of us…to follow him. He seems to recognise you and Arnold…and Eduardo’s daughter, I think.”

     Seeing that the foreigners needed more explanations that he couldn’t convey with words, the native released the boy and the woman, pulled out something from the side of his belt, and held it up for everyone to see.

 

     _It was a photograph._

_Of Miles, Stella, and Eduardo, apparently inside the pilot’s home._

 

     Here, Ingrid and Hortensia screamed and ran to the man. Eduardo’s wife scrambled to pull out her wallet and another photograph, this one of the whole family. She showed it to the native, being sure to point out Eduardo in both of them.

     Phil and Esther, too, took out photographs of their own; Stella’s sister had a picture of the two women standing side by side at a riverfront, and Miles’ father had a picture of both married couples in Sunset Arms, and one more of Miles and Stella holding a baby Arnold.

     When he saw the pictures, the native practically jumped for joy and gestured at the Garcías and the Shortmans to follow him, and he was quite excited and insistent on it, from the way he didn’t stop speaking.

 

     Esther looked at the team, not believing what was happening. “Well…it…it looks like we have an unexpected development here. Half of the group will follow him, and the rest will stay to make sure that the markers are set up, and they’ll return to camp and give them a full report.” She looked at her family and friends, and added, “And we’ll see if he knows what happened to Miles, Stella, and Eduardo.”

 

     And, as she repeated her instructions in Spanish, Arnold could only stand there and think: _This had better NOT be a dream…this had better NOT be a dream…this had better NOT be a dream…_

 

     But where would the native lead them to?

 

     His parents and Eduardo?

 

     Or…

 

     _…or…_

 

     _...to three graves?_

* * *

     The native led the group north, toward the river, noticed Esther, who made sure to keep track of her compass and the distance travelled. He didn’t stop for anything, though, except when he had to wait for the others to catch up. Obviously, he knew the jungle like the back of his hand, but the others had to trudge through it; sometimes they felt as if they were walking through molasses.

     “Crimeny! Can’t anyone tell this guy to let us stop and rest for a moment? Not all of us are cross-country runners, you know!”

     “I know, Helga,” replied Esther. “I’m getting tired, too, and it’s getting close to sunset. I just hope that we soon reach…well…wherever he’s taking us, since I don’t want to set up camp in the middle of the jungle and so far from the base.

     Just then, the native saw that it was indeed getting dark, so he pulled out two pieces of flint, held them near the thick black-coated end of his pole, and struck the stones together, expecting sparks to fly.

     “Ahem,” said Phil.

     The native stopped when the elder called out. Smugly, Phil approached him and his pole, pulled out a lighter from his pocket, and flicked it to produce a small flame, which lit the black coating, and now the native had a nice torch blazing. Of course, the man was very amazed at the feat that Arnold’s grandfather had just pulled off, but much to Phil’s chagrin, the native didn’t bow to him or worship him. Instead, he nodded and said what might have been his term for “thank you”, lifted the torch, and continued leading the way.

     “Strange,” said Esther. “It’s almost as if he has seen something like that before…”

     “You think he might have seen a gas lighter before, Doctor Antoine?” asked Phoebe.

     “Maybe he hasn’t been as isolated from civilisation as we think,” she replied.

     “Well, lighter or flint, I hope that torch keeps any killer bugs away from us,” groaned Helga, glancing around her, expecting to be eaten by mosquitoes or killer bees.

     Arnold’s uncle laughed, “Don’t worry, Helga. If you have your repellent, nothing will come near you. Speaking of bugs, though, I see we have a bit of good news.” Everyone turned to him, expectantly. “There aren’t any dead or sleeping insects on the ground. Stella said that those were a sign that the Sleeping Sickness was in the area, so wherever we’re going, we won’t have to worry about that.”

     _“For now,”_ whispered Esther to herself—

 

     —just then, her CB radio crackled, apparently someone from the base camp was trying to call her. She replied to the call, in Spanish, but it was obvious that the signal was very weak and choppy. She tried her best to inform the base of their situation and position, but eventually the signal got cut off. “We’re out of radio range,” she said, looking at her radio. “That, or there are too many hills between us and the camp.” Turning to the group, she added, “I asked for a second group to follow us by helicopter, so if our friend’s torch holds out for a bit longer, they’ll be able to find us.”

     Everyone sighed with relief. Despite being so far away from civilisation, they would _not_ be cut off from it.

     “Hey, Esther, you know, when we get home, you _could_ ask Big—um—my dad to get you radios with much better range and clarity. I see you’re quite fond of _your_ radio, because from all the dents and scratches it has, you’ve had it for quite a while.”

     The woman looked at her radio again; while it wasn’t ancient, it had clearly seen better days. “You’re right, Helga. This little guy has been quite reliable ever since I bought it, but perhaps it _is_ time to let it retire and bring in something new.”

     “Hey, and if you get radios for everyone, B—um—my dad can give you a group discount.”

 

     Arnold smiled. _Helga may be a bully, but some of Big Bob’s business savvy managed to rub off on her._

 

     “I’ll be sure to talk to him, Helga. Thanks.”

* * *

     Eventually, the native stopped and planted his torch on the ground. Everyone gathered around it and sat to eat and drink a bit of water, all obviously tired, including the native, and exhaustion seemed to be sagging his permanent smile, which he reset every time he looked at Esther, Arnold, Phil, Gertie, Ingrid, or Hortensia.

     Kurt then sat next to him and drew a simple sketch on the dirt, hoping the man would understand. He made an outline of what was apparently the remains of the plane and everyone there, and then the path they had taken through the hills and valleys of the jungle, ending the line with a drawing of the man’s lit torch. Then he drew a dotted line in the direction they were headed.

     The native nodded, smiled again, and continued the path Arnold’s uncle had drawn, tracing it for a short distance before stopping…

 

     _…and then he drew a mountain where the path stopped._

 

     Kurt understood, then he pointed at the crescent moon overhead, and drew several crescents next to the mountain, in an arch that started from the top of the mountain to near the ground, and he pointed at them and the moon above them.

     The man thought for a moment, and then erased all the crescents but one, which was one quarter of the way from the zenith to the horizon.

     It was Arnold’s uncle’s turn to smile, and he turned to Phoebe, who was watching the exchange very closely. “Want to explain it, or should I?” he asked.

     “Um…” the Asian-American girl blushed a bit and pushed her glasses up her nose. “You…showed him how long we have been walking from where we found the plane, and ‘asked’ him how much longer we need to go. He more or less gave you a distance, and we will stop at the mountain that’s up ahead. You then asked him for the time it would take us to get there, using the moon’s position in the sky as a reference, so if the moon is directly overhead right now, and he said that we’ll take until the moon is…” she held out her hand toward the dirt sketch and extended her fingers in a makeshift protractor, “oh…fifteen to twenty degrees further down the sky, we should take another hour, maybe ninety minutes, before reaching the mountain.”

     “That’s right! You know, Phoebe, you’d make an excellent tracker. Want to join Helpers for Humanity once you turn eighteen?”

     She blushed again, “Um…I’ll…think about it.”

     Gerald noticed that she was getting a bit too sheepish for his comfort, so he protectively sat down at her left. “Heh, and you said we were goin’ to be ‘non-contributin’ spectators’.”

     “Well, I do try,” she whispered, while Helga just rolled her eyes at the whole display of affection, though silently wishing Arnold would stop sulking and writing in his dream journal and just sit close to her instead.

* * *

     After the group had rested for twenty minutes, they resumed their walk, again going over hills, walking through valleys, and wading through shallow streams. They continued into the night, keeping track of the moon and the tall mountain ahead.

     Stella’s sister was glad that they weren’t approaching a volcano, or at least it seemed like an extinct one; she didn’t want to have to start running from an eruption with five children under her care.

     But finally, they went over one more hill, and that’s where the native stopped and gestured ahead of him, as if to say, “Here we are!”

     As the group went over the hill, Gerald looked at his watch, and then smiled at the short girl, “Wow, Phoebe, one hour and ten minutes! You almost got it spot…on?”

     Phoebe had no time to blush at his complement, as the boy, and everyone else, faltered as they came over the hill, and could not believe their eyes.

 

     Esther almost kicked herself at how stupid she, and every other archaeologist and anthropologist that ever studied the Green-Eyed People, had been.

 

     _And it was HER turn to facepalm now._

 

     “Of COURSE!!! No wonder their village was never found in any satellite pictures!!!”

     “Because,” added Helga, almost out of breath, “they all live inside _caves._ ”

 

     The Green-Eyed People had discovered that the extinct volcano had a series of caves at its base, and they obviously led to a maze of tunnels within. There were no houses, pyramids, or much less temples around; the only signs that there were people nearby was some fields that grew crops of some sort, but they weren’t rectangular, due to the ancient lava flows that had divided the fertile sections into random shapes, which would confuse anyone looking at the fields from the sky into thinking that they were anything BUT man-made. Several men and women were waiting outside some caves, obviously waiting for the native that led the group here. No children were around; they were obviously asleep since it was very late.

     They saw that the men wore a similar outfit as the one who had found them, with their belts and loincloths of various colours: black, brown, dark green, and grey, and the women wore long dresses similar to what Ingrid wore, of various colours, some with a flowery or other decorative trim, and some without.

 

     Gerald saw how Arnold was just standing there, with his chin almost touching his chest, so he asked his friend, “I’m guessin’ that the village in your dream was nothin’ like this?”

     His question snapped the blonde boy from his trance; he shook his head, and replied, “In…in my dream, the village was in an open area, like a hollowed-out mountain, and it was perfectly visible from the sky, so anyone with a helicopter or a plane would have been able to see it. It was as big as…well, maybe as big as the San Lorenzo airport.”

     “Kinda like the Indiana Smith movie?”

     “I swear, Gerald, I’m never watching that movie series ever again.”

     As several team members took pictures, Esther chuckled behind them and said, “Well, this is certainly a National Geographic Society moment, and it would have been even more if the village was like what you saw in your dream. But now…” her tone suddenly turned serious. “Now let’s hope our friend doesn’t take us to the village cemetery…”

     Both kids gulped at that, and a knot formed in Arnold’s throat.

 

     _That would be the final blow to everything…after all of this…the absolute end…_

 

     Much to his relief, the man didn’t lead them to a “sacred plot”, or to a place where funeral pyres would be held; instead, he led them near the entrance of what was apparently the main cave. There, the group saw two very prominent figures standing: one was a rather tall native with gold bracelets, anklets, and an elaborate headdress made of feathers of the native birds, and the second was a woman with a much more ornate dress, also with anklets and bracelets, and a gold crown, too.

 

     _The chieftain of the Green-Eyed People, and his wife!_ thought Esther.

 

     The man who had led them here spoke excitedly with his chief, who seemed interested in what he had to say. Both him and his wife looked at the group several times as the man continued to explain, and then the chief approached Esther and asked her something.

     Naturally, she didn’t understand, and there the man seemed to explain it to his chief. Seemingly understanding, the chief’s wife said something which her husband agreed to, and he then declared something which very likely meant: “Let them through.”

     The man nodded, turned to the group, and gestured to them to walk inside the cave.

 

     “I don’t suppose there was a king and queen of the Green-Eyed People in your dream?” asked Phoebe.

     “There were, but they didn’t look anything like these two. They were a lot friendlier, too, but only because we had just woken them up from their coma.”

    

     Once inside, the group saw that the cave was actually the opening of a long tunnel that snaked into the mountain. They followed the man, the chief, and his wife inside, and there they saw that the natives had expanded the tunnel system and hollowed out many more spaces in the surrounding rock and they were all lit by tar-coated torches. Many “caves” were actually homes, workshops, stores, livestock pens, and even shrines to whatever god or gods they worshipped, and many of the openings were blocked by thick curtains of various colours and motifs.

     The commotion the group caused seemed to wake up some of the people who had already gone to bed, and they peeked from the openings of their private caves to see the foreigners be led deeper and deeper into the mountain, and from what the visitors could see, every single villager had emerald green eyes.

     They didn’t see any children, given that they were fast asleep, so Arnold wondered if they wore the same thing the adults wore, or maybe they would have the apparel they used in his dream, or maybe they would have something totally different.

     Still, as the group walked further into the tunnel, some of the villagers that had awakened were staring intensely at Arnold, Phil, Esther, and Hortensia, and were speaking in excited whispers, making them, and Arnold’s friends as well, feel somewhat uneasy.

     On and on they walked, but along the way, the chief and his wife stopped, said something to the man, and entered what was probably the largest curtain covered opening, apparently their living quarters, or “the royal cave” as Arnold labelled it internally. Then, the man continued leading the group further into the mountain, until they stopped at was apparently the innermost private cave, which was covered by a brown curtain covered with a yellow motif that resembled a butterfly. The tunnel seemed to stop, since they couldn’t see if there were any other openings that led further into the mountain, though a breeze that flowed back and forth indicated that there were still more caverns beyond that point. There, the man who had found them moved the curtain aside so that the group could step inside.

     The private cave was rather spacious, since it was apparently the home to three people—three adults, in fact—two men and one woman.

 

     _One man and the woman had white skin, though a bit tanned._

_The other man had dark skin; definitely a Hispanic._

_The white man was tall, blonde, and with a long moustache and beard down to his chest, hair down to his shoulder blades, and wearing a brown belt and loincloth_

_The white woman was a brunette, with hair down to her waist, and she wore a long white dress with a decorative trim of what appeared to be lemons._

_And her head was OVAL SHAPED._

_The Hispanic man also had long hair, moustache, and beard like the first, but dark brown, and also sported a brown belt and loincloth._

 

     “S…Stella?” asked Esther, not daring to approach.

     “Mom? Dad?” asked Arnold, also afraid to get closer.

     _“¿Papá?”_ asked Hortensia, clinging to her mother.

     “¿Ed…Lalito?”

     “Son?” asked Phil and Gertie simultaneously.

 

     The three adults in question eyed the newcomers for a moment, but they were suddenly swarmed by them before they could answer. Ingrid and Esther clutched Eduardo, while Phil, Gertie, Stella, and Arnold rushed to hug Miles and Stella. And naturally, they barraged them with questions and shouts of joy:

     “We found you at last!!!”

     “You’re ALIVE!!!”

     “You’ve been here all this time? Why didn’t you try to contact us? Are you okay?”

     “Geez, son, you haven’t shaved? Don’t these people have knives or anything?”

     Similar questions were being asked to Eduardo, but obviously in Spanish.

     Oddly enough, Miles, Stella, and Eduardo only looked at each other, unsure of what was happening, much less of what to say at this point.

     In fact, they weren’t returning the embraces, nor answering any question whatsoever.

 

     _They weren’t saying ANYTHING._

 

     _And Arnold noticed that._

 

     “M…Mom? Dad? What…what’s wrong?” His eyes pleaded for some type of answer, _any_ type of answer, but none came from them.

     Instead, Miles turned to the man that had led the group here, and asked something in the villager’s language, to which the man gave a short explanation, but that still didn’t seem to remove the confusion from the three no-longer-missing adults.

     Esther then held Stella’s shoulders, looked into her eyes, and pleaded with tears, “Stella, it’s _me_ , Esther, your sister! _Your little sister!_ You remember me, don’t you?”

     The slightly taller sibling looked back at her, and only replied in the villager’s language, obviously confused at what was happening.

     Phil then grabbed his son by his forearms and demanded, “Oh, don’t give me that! You know who _I_ am, right, sonny? I changed your _diapers_ , for crying out loud!!!”

     Miles just stared at his father, eyeing his chin for a moment, before shaking his head and saying something with slight insistence.

     Ingrid and Hortensia, too, were now crying and pleading with Eduardo, obviously begging for some sort of recognition from his part, but he, too, shook his head.

 

     Anger filled Arnold from his shoes to his blue cap. He grabbed Esther’s left arm, forcibly turned her toward him, and demanded, “What’s going on, Aunt Esther???!!! Why can’t they understand us??? Are they REALLY my parents???”

 

     Kurt would have been upset at his nephew handling his wife like that, but he understood the boy’s desperation. Gerald, Phoebe, and especially Helga, weren’t so understanding, and they gasped when they saw Arnold almost lose control again. They were about to pounce on him, but a gesture from Esther made them stop.

     She looked at her sister and brother-in-law, then at Eduardo, and stated, “Helpers for Humanity.”

 

     The three didn’t react.

 

     “Oh, no…”


	15. Chapter 13: I Believe In Yesterday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark epiphany coming up...

**THIRTEEN – I BELIEVE IN YESTERDAY**

 

 

     Phoebe wiped her glasses again and stepped up to the problematic adults, declaring what Esther had just internally deduced, “They have amnesia!!! The plane crash, while not overtly fatal, must have given them a really bad concussion when they hit the ground. Eventually they woke up and managed to leave the plane under their own power. The Green-Eyed People must have been tracking the plane when it went down, and they were able to find them quickly and re-explain the situation of the Sleeping Sickness. That must have triggered some residual memories, so they went back and took out all the medicine before it was buried in the mudslide! Still…” She looked closer at Miles, Stella, and Eduardo, and saw that they had a few scars in their arms, shoulders, and legs. “They did get some considerable injuries from the crash, so the Green-Eyed People decided to take care of them until they recovered. But…” she sighed, looking away from Arnold and Esther. “Since they had no memory of who they were, or where they came from, and with the plane disappearing under all that mud, they had no way of finding their way back, and there was no way for others to find them, so they had no choice but to stay here, even after they eradicated the Sleeping Sickness. And…” She looked up at the people they had found at last. “After six years of _only_ speaking the Green-Eyed People’s language, they became quite fluent, but they completely lost all the ability to speak English…and Spanish!” she added turning to Eduardo.

     “Huh? What are you talkin’ about, babe? How can _anyone_ forget how to speak _any_ language, especially the one they grew up with?”

     The Asian-American girl raised an eyebrow at her almost-boyfriend, but didn’t glare at him. “These things happen, ‘babe’.” Gerald blushed. “My dad makes sure that both him and I stay fluent in Japanese by constantly speaking, writing, and reading it, as much as we can, while we’re in the house, of course. And I also make sure to read as much Japanese material as there is available at the library…” Seeing how the boy only got more confused, she tried again, “Look, Gerald, it’s like playing baseball or basketball. Say you’re a REALLY good player, with record scoring and all that. What would happen if after you win the championship game, you suddenly didn’t practice for, oh, six years? Would you still be the top player once you started playing again?”

     “What? No! You’d practically need to re-learn everythin’ because you didn’t keep…oh, I see what you mean.”

     “That’s right. The brain isn’t a muscle, but it still needs constant stimulation to remain ‘smart’, shall we say.”

     Helga, meanwhile, was having flashbacks of her own recent bout with amnesia several months ago at school. “It…it must have been a really BIG blow if they didn’t get their memories back right away, like I did, I mean, I only needed a good night’s sleep.”

     Phoebe did a double take at her. “Huh? Helga, I thought your amnesia lasted two days.”

     “Um, _right_ , Pheebs! I got a little confused there!” she quickly explained, and hoped against hope that Arnold would buy it.

     Ignoring Helga’s obvious fabrication, the boy in question was using both hands to rub his head in despair, and almost pulling his hair out. He pleaded, “What do we do now, Aunt Esther??? We can’t leave them like this!!!” He was on the brink of tears, and after all that happened, he no longer cared if his peers saw him cry, and given that Helga’s amnesia had lasted two days—as far as he knew—a case that lasted six years was enough to make anyone panic.

     The woman just clung to her husband, nearly collapsing, and cried, “I…I don’t know, Arnold…I’m…I’m sorry, but I just don’t know!!!”

     Kurt led her to a wall, where an outcropping served as a bed or a chair or a table, and they sat there. Phil and Gertie sat next to them, and allowed the woman to cry.

 

     Arnold, seeing that not even the adults had an answer to this situation, _a solution to this problem_ , sagged, and dejectedly sat on the ground next to Kurt, raised his knees to his arms, and hid his face, closing his eyes and wishing for the mountain to swallow him up and make him disappear off the face of the earth.

 

     _It was all for nothing. We found them, but they have no idea who we are…and might never know again…_

 

     One of the HfH workers stepped up to Esther, not wanting to interrupt, but whatever he told her, it seemed very urgent.

     At his declarations, the woman straightened up, dried her tears, and replied, nodding and apparently giving her approval to whatever he had just suggested. The worker nodded and walked out of the hollow, heading outside again, leaving the families and the children alone. Seeing that some were wondering what she had just ordered, she dried her eyes a bit more, and explained, “He…suggested that they go back outside and prepare the signal for the helicopter; they’ll be setting up torches that will mark the landing spot. Others will climb up the mountain, as high as they can, to try to get a clear radio signal and contact the base camp again. That way, they’ll be sure to find us. No one…” she shuddered and straightened her shoulders. “No one will get lost again, not under _my_ watch. For now, let’s just go to sleep here and rest. Maybe tomorrow morning one of us will have a clear idea of what to do…or maybe someone at the camp will send us instructions on how to deal with this…” She saw that Arnold was still with his head in his arms, so she knelt at his right, and embraced him. “Arnold, you’ve done so much for so many, without asking for anything in return. I know you must feel like your worst nightmare is coming true, and I know _you_ don’t have an answer to this problem, but…” she shuddered again. “Don’t let this weigh you down. This is _not_ a problem for you to solve. _No one_ is depending on _you_ to pull everyone out of this mess. This is _not_ resting on your shoulders. In fact,” she breathed deeply. “ _Nothing_ of this kind should be on the shoulders of _anyone_ your age. _You_ haven’t failed anyone, Arnold. This is all…an unfortunate circumstance that we’re all in the middle of right now. Please, don’t _ever_ think that you’re a failure, because _you haven’t failed anyone_ , okay?”

     The boy didn’t reply, so Phil patted his left shoulder again, “Shortman, I know you love helping others, like your parents here did with the Green-Eyed People, but for once, let the grown-ups solve this problem, okay?”

     Arnold stirred, lifting his head and staring blankly at the rocky ceiling, as random shadows danced with the flickering of the torches.

     Helga, Gerald, and Phoebe took their positions around him again, standing by for another meltdown. “Foot—Arnold,” Helga began. “Please, listen to your aunt and grandfather. You can’t do anything more; none of us can. And we’re all tired and no one can think clearly like this, so…just…rest for tonight, and tomorrow we’ll all come back to this…and see what can be done, okay?”

     The blonde boy rubbed his eyes for a moment, and breathed deeply in resignation, “You’re right. We _are_ just kids after all. We have no idea how to bring memories back, so…let’s just go to sleep.” With that, he stood, and removed his backpack.

     Taking his cue, the others also removed their backpacks and pulled out their sleeping bags, preparing for bed, all while Miles, Stella, and Eduardo looked at them with no idea of what they were doing. Still, since it was late, they, too, moved to a side of the cave and laid down on thick mats that served as their beds.

 

     Arnold looked at his parents and how they laid down together, while Ingrid and Hortensia prepared their spot near Eduardo, but not right next to him.

 

     _I’m a total stranger to my parents…WE are all total strangers to them…even Eduardo doesn’t recognise his wife or daughter…if this is how Real Life gets back at me for having lost my temper so many times…for having lost hope…I…I have no idea what I will do now…_

 

     He turned over and glared at the ceiling.

 

     _But it looks like my own advice was never worth anything, if it couldn’t help ME…_

_…I’ll never give advice again…_

_…ever…_

* * *

     “Crimeny!!! These people may still be living in the Stone Age, but with them already having discovered fire, you’d THINK they know what a hot shower is!!! Or _at least_ a hot bath!”

     Arnold didn’t need his potato-powered alarm clock, not with Helga waking up first and ranting her typical complaints about being so far away from civilisation, and especially modern plumbing. He got up and walked outside the curtain, and in the tunnel, he saw Helga attempting to speak to one of the native women.

     “Hey, lady! Do you even have something that resembles a _bathtub_??? You know, rub-a-dub-dub? Wash-wash, rinse-rinse?” She was rubbing her face, arms, legs, and hair, crudely pantomiming the actions one would take while in a shower or a bathtub. Naturally, the woman just stared at her, amused.

     “Have you even heard of SOAP??? Crimen—!!!” Her rant suddenly stopped when she whirled to continue complaining and saw that her beloved was looking at her with an annoyed expression on his handsome face. “Uh…not that it’s THAT important, of course, Football Head,” she straightened out, hands behind her, and shifted sheepishly. “After all, we have more important things to worry about right now, so…uh…sorry about that. It’s…kinda hard to break the habit of using bathrooms, not after using them practically all our lives.”

     Rather than berate her about her complaints about the backwardness of this place, Arnold just sighed.

 

     _He was just too defeated and deflated to even bother arguing with her, or anyone, anymore._

 

     With a blank stare and lifeless voice and eyes, he said, “I know what you mean, Helga, I could use a hot shower, too, or, you know…just _do_ something…”

 

     _Crimeny, he’s starting to look and sound more and more like ARNIE!!!_

 

     _His hooded eyes, his hooded LIFELESS eyes, his slight slouch…_

 

     _Please, my love, don’t give up on yourself!!! I couldn’t bear to fall OUT of love with you if you were no longer the boy who rescued me from the rain!!!_ “Football Head, you _know_ you don’t have to do anything. You heard your aunt and grandpa. It’s…it’s okay if you don’t have all the answers.”

     He shook his head, “I’ve helped so many people, and now I’m so close to getting my parents back, but no one can do anything to close this last gap that keeps them from remembering who I am…”

     “There may be one chance.”

     The two kids looked up and saw Esther walking into the tunnel, and she was carrying a large cardboard box that was attached to a small parachute. “The helicopter from camp passed by at dawn, and they’ve taken note of our exact position. They also dropped this little something that just _might_ get your parents, and Eduardo’s, memories back.”

     “That box seems too small to hold a shillelagh. You know, one to bonk them on the head again,” quipped the blonde girl.

     Both aunt and nephew chuckled; the light apparently returning to the boy’s eyes momentarily, giving Helga respite, much to her internal joy.

     “Oh, nothing of the sort, Helga. Besides, contrary to what you’ve seen in cartoons, another blow to the head only makes matters worse. What might help in their case is…” she opened the box, “…memoirs.”

     The children looked inside, and saw that the box was filled with photographs, books, notebooks, and documents.

     “This should help jog their memories. If not…” she sighed, “…we’ll have to take them to the Santa Clara hospital and see what they can do there, and if _that_ fails, we’ll have to take them to Hillwood, and hope that the memories of their hometown, and a good neurosurgeon, will help them remember.”

 

     Arnold sighed in resignation yet again.

     This really _was_ totally out of his hands now.

 

     As Esther walked through the curtain, Gerald and Phoebe walked out. “I see Doctor Antoine is going to use memoirs to try to make them remember,” said the girl. “Looks like we’re back to being ‘non-contributing spectators’ again. By the way, Helga, were you yelling just now?”

     “Yeah, sorry about that, Pheebs, I guess expecting a hot shower was out of line for me, considering where we are.”

     Just then, Arnold looked at her, and a very faint spark lit up in his eyes. “Well, Helga, I may not have the solution to my parents’ and Eduardo’s problem, but the least I can do is focus on the smaller problems, and take things one step at a time.”

     “What do you mean?”

     “What I mean is, we’re going to get you that hot bath you want. Yes, we’re back in the Stone Age, but if the Green-Eyed People know what fire is, they will _definitely_ know what hot water is. Now, come on.”

     With a slightly less pronounced slouch, Arnold walked toward the entrance. The other three looked at each other, in obvious relief that their friend had recovered slightly from last night’s tragic revelation, and followed him outside.

 

     _Yes, my love, don’t drop that habit. Just do what comes naturally to you, and you’ll find your mojo again!_

 

     As they neared the entrance, they saw that the native families were waking up and preparing to start their daily activities, and as the native kids—their age and younger—ran about and approached them, the four couldn’t help but feel slightly uneasy, not to mention they were having a difficult time keeping their eyes up front.

     “Crimeny! Why don’t you go put on some pants, doi!?”

     “I’ll say! We certainly don’t need to see THAT!” added Gerald, trying to keep his eyes on the back of Arnold’s head.

     “Um, Arnold…” Phoebe removed her glasses and held Gerald’s hand tightly, deliberately keeping her eyes out of focus and letting her almost-boyfriend guide her. “I…take it that in your dream, the children weren’t so… _not_ self-conscious?”

     The blushing blonde replied, “Yes, they all wore the same type of clothes as their parents, and no one was…um… _carefree_ …I suppose, or no one that I could see, at least. They consider this ‘normal’, so just…try not to stare.” Which was impossible, of course, given how some of the girls were eyeing and giggling at Arnold and Gerald, and how some boys were calling out to Helga and Phoebe.

     The short girl, unable to stop blushing, said, “You know, maybe we should…um…give the kids a clear message that, while they’re very curious about us and it’s obvious that they either want to play with us or just want to know why we’re wearing clothes when we’re not adults, that we’re not exactly interested in having a summer romance at this point because we…uh…we’re both kinda already ‘taken’…”

     “Huh? What do you mean, Phoebe?” asked Gerald.

     “Like you did with Hortensia, Helga?”

     The blonde girl almost froze again. _When did Arnold stop being so clueless?_ “Uh…right, Football Head. Phoebe, just follow my lead, and try not to mess this up, boys.”

     The African-American protested, “Wait, what are you two talkin’ about?”

     His almost-girlfriend hissed, “Just go along with it, ‘babe’.”

     As if they had rehearsed this, each girl took a tight hold of the left arm of her “beau” and walked with him practically joined at the hip. Seeing that they were indeed “taken”, the older children backed off, but the younger ones remained curious and didn’t stop following them, at least not until a parent or two called them back.

 

     Mercifully, the “couples” found their way out of the tunnel soon enough, and the Asian-American girl put her glasses on again. Then, the four quickly put plenty of distance between themselves and the native children. When they were halfway to the nearest stream, Arnold quickly looked around and led the group to where a woman was standing next to several clay pots of various sizes, from jug-size to cauldron-size. He greeted her, and then pointed at a medium-sized cauldron, and a jug-sized one, and then he pointed at himself and his friends.

     Naturally, the woman had no idea what he wanted, so she just looked blankly at him.

     Phoebe sighed and stepped up, with much more confidence than the blonde boy had. She pointed at the pots in question, pantomimed filling them with water, pointed at the base of the large one and did a crude pantomime of a firepit, and then she did the motions of scrubbing her arms and hair. Then she motioned taking the pots away and bringing them back again.

     The woman looked in amusement at the girl with very pale skin and strangely shaped eyes with odd crystals in front of them, but after a few minutes of pantomiming back and forth, she nodded and pointed at the two pots in question.

     “Well, I don’t know if she thinks we’re going to use the pots to cook food or make mosquito repellent, but I believe she allowed us to use the ones you wanted, Arnold.”

     He smiled. “Thanks, Phoebe. For a ‘non-contributing spectator’, you sure know how to contribute.”

     “You’re welcome, Arnold. Now, what is the next part of your plan?”

     Arnold Phillip Shortman straightened up, looked at the pots, at his friends, at the mountain, at the native adults, and once again the spark in his eye brightened.

* * *

     After eyeing a somewhat secluded crevice next to the mountain—basically a U-shaped wall that faced away from most of the tunnel entrances—the boys carried the cauldron and jug there. Meanwhile, at his instructions, the girls went to look for firewood, which wasn’t difficult to find in the early morning, and Phoebe was also clever enough to borrow a burning branch from one of the women who already had a bonfire going as they were preparing breakfast. With the “starter” branch, the four lit up their own bonfire under the cauldron. Arnold, meanwhile, took the jug and went to a nearby stream to fill it with water, and then carried it back to empty it in the cauldron. He did this several times until the cauldron was about one-third full, and they waited.

     “Just like the faulty boiler in Sunset Arms,” he shrugged.

     Once he saw the water start boiling, he pulled away as many of the burning branches and sticks as he could, snuffing them out and placing them aside. Then he repeated the refilling until the cauldron was almost full. He tested the water temperature with his hand, and nodded in satisfaction.

     “There you go, Helga. Your bath has been drawn, and I think there might be enough water in there for Phoebe, too. You probably have enough to wash your clothes, too, but I don’t know if you’d want to wait for them to dry, though it is getting a bit hot out here.”

     The blonde girl wanted to swoon and embrace him tightly and express her gratitude as affectionately as she could, but she managed to control herself by crossing her arms tightly. “Wow, Football Head, this was quick thinking on your part, given your experience with your faulty boiler. Though after what happened last night, we all kinda thought for a moment that you kinda…you know…felt so down that you had decided to stop solving problems…sorta,” she said somewhat unsure.

     Arnold turned to the jungle and sighed, “Well, that DID cross my mind last night…quite a few times, I tell you…but after getting a good night’s sleep…” He looked at Helga. “Not yet, I suppose. Not quite yet.”

     “I hope you don’t stop,” said his best friend. “You wouldn’t be _you_ if you stopped.”

     The short girl walked up to him and pleaded through her glasses, “Please, don’t stop, Arnold. Whatever happens with your parents and Eduardo, please don’t stop being who you are. If you do, you’d be…”

     “Arnie,” finished Helga with a huff. “And I doubt your grandparents, or the gang, would want another Arnie with them. Trust me, Football Head, without you being a goody-two-shoes and helping others, it would be REALLY weird and boring.” _And I wouldn’t have anyone to love, my sultry preteen, please, don’t ever stop being you!!!_

     “I would be _Arnie_?” He couldn’t imagine himself starting a lint collection or reading the ingredients of everything with ingredient lists, much less doing that out-of-sync blinking… “Okay, fine, I’ll try to continue ‘being myself’,” he humoured them, much to their delight, from their relieved smiles. “Now, come on, Gerald, let’s get out of the ‘women’s showers’ and give our ‘girlfriends’ some privacy.”

     The dark-skinned boy blushed at the sound of the word “girlfriends”, but before he followed his friend, he turned to his almost-girlfriend and said, “You might want to stay with Helga, Phoebe, and keep an eye out for any of the Green-Eyed kids who might get a bit _too_ curious and want to know what a foreign white girl looks like.”

     “They’d better not,” said the foreign white girl, removing her hiking boots. “Anyone who wants to get an eyeful of _this_ ‘foreign white girl’ is going to get an eyeful of Ol’ Betsy and the Five Avengers. Now scram, you two.”

* * *

     As the boys walked away, Gerald said, “That was a nice favour you did for Helga. I’m glad you didn’t stop—”

     “I only did it to shut her up, Gerald,” he stated with hooded eyes and almost monotone. “It also helped solve OUR problem of getting hot bathing water, but I’m telling you, it’s getting very, VERY hard for me to continue helping…it’s like it’s being drained from me, somehow…”

     As Arnold trailed off, a cold fear gripped Gerald’s insides as he made his realisation. _My main man is losin’ himself because his parents can’t remember him!!!_

     And the worst part was that he had no idea how to help Arnold with that, much the same way Arnold had no idea how to help his parents.

* * *

     The two went back into the tunnel and the cave where they had slept in, and there they saw Esther and Kurt talking with Miles, Stella, and Eduardo, showing them pictures and documents and books, trying— _pleading_ —to get them to remember. Miles and Stella looked up when Arnold entered, and looked at him with absolutely no emotional reaction whatsoever.

     He had no more strength to tremble and burn with rage and frustration, as the black hole in his chest had very much sucked all his emotional energy by this point. And unless his aunt managed to achieve something now, then everything was hopeless.

     He made an about face and walked back out to the tunnel.

      “Hey, man, where are you goin’?” asked Gerald. “Aren’t you gonna have breakfast? And you know we can’t leave you alone in case you have another meltdown.”

     For the _nth_ time, the blonde boy sighed. “I’m not hungry right now, Gerald. Maybe it’s the smell of the strange food these people are cooking, I dunno. But you don’t have to worry about another meltdown on my part. There are no bullies here—” save for Helga, but she appeared to have been subdued, “—there are no more problems I can solve, no more projects to do, no more searches to continue…” _Nothing left to do or say._ “I…just want to be alone for a while. Don’t worry, I won’t go into the jungle.”

     “Okay, but after I’m done with breakfast, I’m comin’ out to look for you, got it? I…won’t interrupt your alone-time, though. That’s the least you deserve, and the most I can do for you now, buddy.”

     His best friend gave him a _very_ weak smile. “Thanks, Gerald.”

     They did their secret handshake one more time, though Arnold did it half-heartedly, and he left.

* * *

     Once outside, Arnold decided to walk around and see if there were more caves and tunnels on the base of the extinct volcano. Several hundred meters later, he saw a tree growing near the slope of the mountain, so he walked up to it, sat in its shade, pulled out his dream journal, and continued to write down what he managed to remember up till now. Occasionally, he had to rearrange the pages as the sequence of the events became clearer in his head, and after an hour, he finished with how his parents walked him to school, along with Gerald, Helga, and Phoebe—

 

     — _and everything vanished once I woke up._

 

     Flipping over the pages, he couldn’t help but realise just how much of what he dreamed was nothing more than things he had been misinformed about, misunderstood, mixed up, or were just plain influence of Indiana Smith and pepperoni pizza.

 

     _And none of it had been real._

 

     Standing again, he looked at the native villagers in the distance, and the tunnel entrances that led inside the mountain. He looked up and saw the rim of the extinct volcano, and for a moment wondered how long it had been since it last erupted and created all those caves, and then the Green-Eyed People found them and decided to live in—

 

     He stopped his line of thought when he realised that the Green-Eyed People were actual, modern-day _CAVE-men_.

 

     He almost chuckled at that epiphany; it would certainly be nothing that the others back in Hillwood would believe, not without photographic evidence. That line of thought seemed to trigger his curiosity, and he walked back around again to see just exactly how different this village was from the one in his dream.

     He walked around the oddly-shaped fields, unsure of what the natives actually grew, since none of the crops were ready for harvest, but from what he remembered in history class, he assumed they grew corn and beans, perhaps peanuts, too. Then he saw some adults who worked with leather, some were working with bows, arrows, and spears, obviously preparing for a hunt. There were corrals for pigs, deer, and a large rodent he couldn’t identify, with “herdsmen” tending to them. Moving on, he saw stone masons working on statues of various sizes and other carvings; there were women working with cloth; weaving, sowing, dyeing; and much to his grim surprise, he even saw what he knew were undertakers, as they were digging pits in what was obviously the village cemetery.

     Of course, there were no schools, but that didn’t stop the kids from having their own education system. Every worker, farmer, and tradesperson had several children around him/her, who looked attentively at how they did their jobs, asking questions and listening to instructions, and occasionally trying out their luck at making clothes, carving, farming, etc.

     He didn’t see the chief nor his wife anywhere; perhaps all the business of leading their village was done in their private cave, or maybe it was in a separate tunnel.

     Deciding he had enough of the external world of the Green-Eyed People, he went back inside the main tunnel. Of course, he didn’t peek randomly into openings with a thick curtain over them; he knew those were living quarters. The caves that didn’t have a curtain were basically the same as he saw last night: workshops, stores, livestock pens, shrines…

 

     _Shrines?_

 

     Peeking into one—he didn’t want to “contaminate” any “holy place” by stepping inside any “forbidden ground”—he saw that there were several statues of strangely shaped people and animals. Not being an archaeologist, he had no way of identifying what he was looking at, but what he did notice was that none of the paintings, figures, carvings, or statues, were anything like he saw in his dream, much less were there paintings of carvings of his parents or—

 

     — _of HIMSELF?_

 

     _The dream…_

_…the dream…_

_…the dream was all about HIM?_

 

     All those statues he saw of himself, or of his head, and then only HE could start the machine that would make a rain carrying the cure to all those affected by the Sleeping Sickness, only HE could activate the glow of the pendant that would allow him to read the hidden clues in the map, only HE could open El Corazón, which La Sombra—

 

     Arnold ran back to the cave where his parents and uncles were, and there he saw Eduardo, with his wife and daughter still trying to speak to him and trying to get him to remember.

     The man turned to look at the blonde boy, again, with no reaction whatsoever.

     “Hey, buddy, you finally decided to have breakfast now?”

     He ignored Gerald’s question as he tried to suppress another wave of anger. With the moustache, La Sombra LOOKED like Eduardo…

 

     _…or was it EDUARDO who looked like LA SOMBRA?_

_La Sombra, the man who, in his dream, tricked him and the entire class in order to kidnap him and take him away from his friends and what was left of his family…_

_…just like Eduardo took his parents away for “one final mission”…_

 

     “Arnold?”

 

     Ignoring his best friend once again, the blonde boy stormed out of the cave and tunnel, knowing that if he stayed any longer, he would do something unspeakable to Doctor Eduardo Carlos García Alazraqui, the man who stole his parents from him.

 

     _It was Eduardo’s fault that they crashed in the middle of nowhere…it was Eduardo’s fault that my parents never came back…it was Eduardo’s fault for not keeping the Sleeping Sickness under control when the first outbreak had already been controlled…it was Eduardo’s fault for not bothering to ask for help from any other doctors of Helpers for Humanity…it was Eduardo’s fault for being so stupid, for a “doctor”…it was Eduardo’s fault…it was ALL his fault…_

 

     Suddenly finding himself halfway between the mountain and the jungle, at the bank of the stream, he finally realised something.

 

     _Arnold HATED Eduardo._

 

     But…did he wish for Eduardo to actually _be_ La Sombra, the way he was in his dream?

 

     Did he want Eduardo to have the same fate La Sombra had in his dream?

 

     He suddenly remembered how in his dream. La Sombra was so ruthless that he didn’t bat an eye when he sacrificed his own henchmen to get at him and El Corazón, and then didn’t care about his own life in one last attempt to get that relic, to finally end up at the bottom of a canyon…and suddenly he was replaced by an “alternate” La Sombra: _Eduardo_ …

 

     Was the dream just his subconscious venting all the frustration he had over the years, focusing on the person whom he thought was at fault at the entire situation?

 

     He searched his pocket for his dream journal, to review and write down the epiphany he just had, but panicked when he saw that he didn’t have it. _Where did it—?_

_THE TREE!!!_

 

     Of course, he had been so distracted by his introspections and curiosity that he forgot to put the notebook back in his pocket, and he had left it under the tree. Feeling stupid, _again_ , he ran around the mountain and to the small clearing where the tree was. He only hoped the natives hadn’t seen his journal, otherwise they would probably drop any loose pages and he would have to rearrange everything all over ag—

 

     “Hey, Football Head.”

 

     There, standing under the tree, holding _AND READING HIS DREAM JOURNAL_ , was a freshly bathed and dressed Helga Geraldine Pataki.

 

     His anger returned with a vengeance, and for the third time in his life…

 

     _…Arnold saw RED…_


	16. Chapter 14: Masks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Get to your bomb shelters, this is going to be a doozy!!!

**FOURTEEN – MASKS**

 

 

     “You know, you really should be more careful where you leave your stuff. Any of those ‘one-with-nature’ kids could have found it and probably used it as toilet paper or something. And you’re right; this dream of yours is the lamest thing I’ve ever read—HEY!!!” She was suddenly shoved to the ground at the same time the notebook was snatched from her surprised hands.

     _“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing with this???!!!”_ demanded the boy.

     While his angry tone and sudden aggression was enough to frighten her, Helga was _not_ someone to be pushed around. She jumped to her feet and confronted Arnold with her own pent up anger. “What do you MEAN what do I think I’m doing with this??? Doi!!! If you leave this thing around for anyone to grab, what do you THINK was going to happen other than someone grabbing it and READING IT???!!!”

     “And you just thought you could grab it and do whatever you wanted with it???”

     “Doi! I was wondering what else you had dreamed! I mean, if this dream of yours,” she pointed at the notebook, “has got you in such a mess, I would like to know just WHAT it’s about in order to understand more!!!”

     “You could have ASKED for it, at least!!!”

     She put her fists on her hips. “It’s not like you were anywhere AROUND here to ask you, Football Head!!! Look, I know that with everything that’s been happening to you lately, you’d want to be alone, but you don’t have to be unnervingly morose about EVERYTHING!!!” She waved her arms, “Your parents were found ALIVE, for crimeny’s sake!!! Sure, they have amnesia, but that has the possibility of being fixed!!!”

     He wanted to scream, to hit something, to explode at the universe. “That’s not what’s got me in such a mess, Helga!!! I just remembered something important about my dream and I need to write it down NOW!!!”

     “Crimeny! Why are you so worked up about this dream if you KNOW it’s stupid and just a bunch of nonsense that never happened for real??? Just what is WRONG with you???!!!”

     He stomped up to her, backing her to the tree, and this time Helga’s fear _did_ overcome her anger momentarily. Was he going to pin her down again? He waved an angry right arm. “Helga, I just realised something horrible about my dream!!!”

     “Horrible? Geez, Football Head, did you dream that your parents died in the end or something?”

     Here Arnold realised that she had not read the whole journal, so she didn’t know how his dream really ended, or what happened right before. “No!!! What was terrible about it is that I dreamed I wanted to KILL someone!!! And not just one, BUT A WHOLE GANG!!!”

     Helga’s fear skyrocketed at this point, and she was sure she would have taken off running if it had been anyone other than her beloved telling her that.

 

     _Arnold, my reason for living, a killer?_

 

     “Foot—Arnold…” she spoke quietly, trying to calm him down, and trying to push down her own terror. “Who…who did you kill in your dream?”

     He raised his journal for a moment, trembling with rage and terror of his own before his arm sagged again. “N…no one…I myself didn’t kill anyone…but…in my dream, La Sombra’s gang, all of them, were killed off by him, one by one. Then La Sombra tried to kill me, you, and Gerald. He got hit by a poisoned dart and fell down a cliff.”

     She calmed down; his declaration didn’t exactly make him an axe murderer, not to her, at least. Breathing deeply, she said, “Soooo…La Sombra killed his own goons, and then he himself ended up as a pancake at the bottom of a cliff…exactly how does that make YOU a murderer, Arnold?”

     His eyes, which once sparked with life and determination, now bled despair and rage. He gestured at himself. “Helga, all of those deaths happened in _MY dream_ , _in MY subconscious._ If I dreamed that La Sombra and his gang were killed, that means that _I am the one who wants to see them dead_!!!”

     The girl looked at him for a moment, and now it was her turn to stomp toward him, making him back away from the tree. She waved her arms in anger, “And what’s wrong with _that_? Arnold, you KNOW they are crooks! Thieves! Pirates! _Murderers_! If anything, your subconscious just showed you that you wanted justice done!!!”

     “Not like THAT!!!” he countered, throwing his book on the grass. “I don’t want bad things to happen to ANYONE, not even criminals! That’s…that’s not ME, okay???” He rubbed his hair in anger, almost dropping his tiny blue cap. “But…in my dream, I did. These past weeks since I had that dream, I’ve never felt so angry before…so angry that my parents don’t know who I am, don’t know who my aunt and uncle are…so angry that we all came here for nothing…and this anger won’t go away!!!”

     “Puh, so you’re feeling angry, Football Head?” she spat. “Welcome to the human race! Did you really think that you were going to go through life all happy and joyful, without getting a taste of anger or sadness? Who WOULDN’T feel angry if they were going through what you’re going through???”

     “But…” he paced back and forth in front of her, shaking his head. “Not like THIS!!! This _isn’t_ who I am!!! I’m supposed to be the one who always has advice, and helps solve problems, who keeps a cool head, and who always knows there’s a bright side to things!!! I can’t possibly feel so much anger at the world…at one person…at this whole situation…that I feel like…like…” He stopped and shut his eyes tight, unused to feeling such rage.

     “Like you wanna kill someone?” she asked behind him, her own experiences with anger now bubbling to the surface as well. “You think you’re the first person on this planet who has felt like that? You think you’re the only one who has felt so overwhelmed by all the terrible things that has happened around him that it has left him feeling unloved and abandoned? You think no one else but you has ever felt so angry that you yourself has wanted to become a bully? A thief? A crook? A pirate? A drug lord?”

     His face reddened, and it wasn’t with embarrassment. Helga, unfortunately, didn’t see that, because he was turned away at that moment.

 

     _She didn’t know he was about to have, not a meltdown, but an explosion._

 

     “A murderer?”

 

     There were moments in Arnold’s life where he screamed in pain or excitement.

 

     This was the first time where he screamed in _absolute RAGE._

 

     The next thing Helga knew was that she had been shoved to the ground again, flat on her back, and the boy whom she loved had her pinned down by kneeling on her lower abdomen, and not only that, he had raised his right hand, in a karate stance, ready to give the killing blow right on her neck…

 

     _…anger…_

_…so much anger…_

_…anger at Eduardo for taking his parents away…_

_…anger at the Green-Eyed People for not learning from experience with the first epidemic…_

_…anger at his grandparents for keeping all that information from him…_

_…anger at Helpers for Humanity for_ also _keeping all that information from him…_

_…anger at himself for being so stupid…_

_…anger at La Sombra and his henchmen, the only ones who actually_ deserved _everything that happened to them in his dream, except for…_

_…anger at HELGA…_

_…anger at the girl who had tirelessly and endlessly mocked him, ridiculed him, insulted him, tripped him, sabotaged him, stalked him, filled his hair with spit wads, day and night, for six years, and all he had to do was give one blow and it would all be OVER; if she never came back, neither her parents nor sister would ever ask what had happened to her…_

 

     In the jostling, her locket fell out of her shorts and slipped down to the ground next to her…

     That stopped him cold, when Helga’s scream couldn’t.

 

     _…the same girl who confessed her undying love for him, and the reason for her mockery, ridicule, insults, trippings, sabotage, stalking, filling his hair with spit wads…_

_…the same girl who, in his dream, was the one with a pure heart…_

_…a PURE heart…_

_…a pure heart, under a façade of cruelty…_

_…a pure heart HE didn’t have because of all his anger and HATRED…_

_…an impure heart of anger and hatred under a façade of philanthropy…_

_HE couldn’t start the machine._

_HELGA had to start it._

_No, he would have NEVER been able to start the machine, not even with El Corazón, not with his impure heart…_

 

     Arnold looked at his right hand, still poised to give the killer blow…

     Trembling, he lowered it, and crawled off the girl, ashamed, and now his anger and hatred had been replaced with downright HORROR at what he had just been about to do.

 

     He crawled further away, and turned from her, not wanting Helga to see this particular meltdown. He was on his hands and knees, head down, shaking in fright, in a cold sweat that was not the result of the heat of the day, and just wishing for the Earth to open up and swallow him and make him disappear forever.

 

     There was silence between both blondes for several minutes.

 

     Helga, meanwhile, also crawled away from the boy in absolute horror at what he had just been about to do to her.

 

     _Did he…want to HURT me?_

_Did he…want to…_

_…to…_

 

     The girl gulped.

 

     _…kill me…?_

 

     What shocked Helga even more was the fact that terror had completely overwhelmed her.

 

     _Terror, not at something, but at someONE…_

_…terror at the boy she had loved for the past six years…_

_…terror at the boy whom she knew always did the right thing…_

_…terror at the boy whom, at most, only knocked out those who deliberately attacked him physically…_

_…terror at the boy who insulted their teacher…_

_…terror at the boy who refused to give advice anymore…_

_…terror at the boy who had been her source of inspiration…_

_…terror at the boy whom she had held in her arms on that rooftop and kissed him like there was no tomorrow…_

_…terror at the boy who now made her fear for her very life…_

 

     And what was worse, she realised that all the love she had felt for Arnold had been replaced by TERROR, to the point that she wanted to get away from him as far as possible, never to kiss him or touch him again…

 

     _Had she fallen OUT of love with Arnold due to his misguided meltdown?_

_She…_

_She…_

_…Helga…_

_…had stopped…_

_…loving…_

_…Arnold?_

 

     Now her fear wasn’t so much directed at Arnold and his actions, but at the fact that this could be the most tragic moment of her life: a moment where she would simply stop loving him because he was no longer the boy she fell in love with on that rainy Monday morning in front of Urban Tots. And what would she do if she had indeed stopped loving him and started fearing him? What would happen to her inspiration? What would they do back in Hillwood and P.S. 118? Whom would she turn to should she need advice again? Would she lose her spark, like she did when she thought she was under the influence of Madam Blanche’s potion, with the exception that this would be…

 

     _…PERMANENT?_

 

     Permanent, because this was not the result of a potion, but of unfortunate circumstances, as well as one pizza-induced night vision?

 

     Frantically, she sought for an internal inspiration, a poem, a soliloquy, a brief prose, _anything_ that would make her write something about this moment…

 

     _Oh, my beloved…_

_…my sultry…_

_…the boy with the cornflower…_

_…My dearest A…_

_Arnold…_

_Wherefore have I…_

_I…_

_My beloved…_

_Oh, tragedy of tragedies…_

_What a tragic…_

 

     Like that day several months ago, when Arnold was swaggering in his _gi_ , attacking others for no good reason, she panicked, but this time it was because she realised that there was nothing within her to inspire a poem of any sort…

_…nothing to write down…_

_…nothing to say…_

 

_…nothing to do…_

_…nothing…_

 

     What was even worse, there was no hole in her chest that would indicate that she was heartbroken. No, her heart wasn’t broken, it had simply walled itself up against someone _who deliberately wanted to hurt her_.

 

     And the last breach of her heart had finally been closed up for good.

 

     _No more love._

_No more romance._

_No more poems._

_Nothing._

 

     _It was all over._

 

     She didn’t bother picking up her locket; she seriously doubted she would need it again.

 

     She wondered: if Arnold would eventually turn into Arnie, who would SHE turn into? Bob? Miriam? Her grandmother?

 

     Shaking her head in ultimate disappointment, she sat up and asked, giving him one final chance of a farewell in good terms, “Is…is this what your dream has turned you into? The angriest boy in the world? A bully like Wolfgang, Ludwig, Torvald, ME, even? A bully who has no qualms in attacking girls, like they did?”

     Still too ashamed to turn and look at her, he explained, “No. The dream…just revealed to me who the _real_ me was. Though…” He looked up at the tree branches, remembering, “I see you _did_ have a locket after all.” Indeed, everything came together: the locket he found several months ago, the one he and his grandfather took all afternoon to open, and then it mysteriously disappeared, only to reappear in his dream…

     Helga glanced at the piece of jewellery on the grass. _He knew about that, too?_

     “The girl with the purest heart,” he continued. “Or so said my dream. Or…if that’s what my dream said, then that’s how I’ve wished you to be. But…yes, Helga. This…‘the angriest boy in the world’…is the boy you fell in love with.”

     Here Helga would have panicked at him knowing her six-year secret, but she didn’t.

 

     Now…

 

     …now she knew there was nothing to hide.

 

     _It was now in the past._

_She had moved on._

_Right?_

 

     He sat up, still facing away from her. “It turns out that under the mask of the boy who loves to help everyone and everything, give advice, save our neighbourhood, and only wanted a girl to love him, is the angriest, most hateful…mean…repugnant…revolting…bitter…hateful…despicable…insolent…rude… _ruffian_ , and the most wretched scum on the face of the earth. In my dream, we got together only because you didn’t see this side of me…my real… _dark_ side. That’s why there, I saw you with a pure heart. Compared to me, _you’re_ the saint, not me.”

     Fallen out of love or not, Helga couldn’t stand to see _anyone_ cutting himself down like that, _much less when referring to MASKS_. “Seriously, Football Head? Now your dream has you psychoanalysing yourself, which sent you on a self-depreciating slide, after all you’ve done to help everyone? After you helped put away a WHITE-COLLAR CRIMINAL?” She stood and put her fists on her hips, angry at the boy she no longer felt affection for.

 

     _If there was anything worse than a misogynist, it was a SELF-HATING misogynist._

 

     “And don’t talk to me about hiding behind MASKS, Paste-For-Brains! _I_ practically wrote the book on that! You think you’re the scum of the earth because you’ve been hiding behind a mask of a goody-two-shoes while you were really a bully? Newsflash!!! _I’VE_ been hiding behind a mask of a bully,” she pointed at herself, “of an insolent girl who cares about NOTHING and no one except Phoebe, only to protect myself from attacks from ANYONE who would DARE mock the love and affection I felt for you for so long…”

 

     _“Felt”._

 

     Her use of the past tense seemed so final now.

     Had that ship truly sailed now?

 

     “Arnold, if you call yourself the scum of the earth, just know that I never had a pure heart to begin with, either.” She lowered her arms and turned away slightly. “Like any bully, I’m nothing short of a coward. I’ve been so afraid of telling you what I felt for you for so long, and…” Now she would turn the tables. “If you…somehow…managed to feel anything for me after what I told you on the rooftop of FTI…you…you felt it for a coward.”

     He wasn’t without his own counterargument. “And you fell for a boy with so much hatred and anger…” he looked at the grass, “ _…and an ego the size of Alaska._ My dream…everything about it…was about ME, not finding my parents. That video documentary…you did it all about ME…and everyone whom I helped…they all appeared to congratulate ME. Even if the trip was all a ruse, it was aimed at ME. La Sombra wanted ME. He found the village because of ME. The village was full of statues and paintings of ME…and some of my parents. The only one who could turn on the machine that would cure the adults was ME. The only one who could open El Corazón was ME. Me, me, me, me.” He looked up. “It’s…quite shocking, you know; you go through life thinking you’re okay and calm and…‘meek’, I suppose…” He shivered, despite the heat of the day. “…and you wake up one morning and find out you’re more stuck-up than Rhonda Wellington Lloyd,” he chuckled weakly.

     Helga knew it was a sad laugh, because Arnold considered that to be true.

 

     _And WAS it true?_

_The boy she once loved…_

_…was an egotistical jerk?_

 

     She shook her head and rubbed her right temple in exasperation. “Do you really think that my heart is pure compared to yours? Arnold, I’ve _tortured_ you since kindergarten! And not just you, but _everyone_ in class, including your best friend! Except Phoebe, of course, but…even in baseball, in football, in EVERYTHING we’ve played together, I’ve always been the one who’s always yelling and insulting! I’ve insulted my parents and sister behind their backs, I sabotaged the work of a babysitter, I sabotaged your dates, I sabotaged my SISTER, for crimeny’s sake!!! Even Simmons has brought out the worst in me! I mean…I’ve said a thing or two to his face, worse than _you_ did!!! Maybe…” She hugged herself and turned her back to him. “Maybe having a pure heart is what your subconscious wants me to be for you…but…I can’t be that girl, Arnold. I could never be her. If you are still in love with anyone, it’s…the Helga in your dream, but not me.”

 

     _Everything was becoming more and more final by the second, and neither of them could stop it._

 

     He finally turned to her. “Oh? And weren’t you the girl who turned down a life of riches and decided to become Deep Voice so that you could help me save the neighbourhood? And weren’t you _the only one_ who was able to help me, right when I was about to throw in the towel? Weren’t you the girl who helped me find my hat—the one my parents gave to me when I was a baby? The girl who helped me see through Summer and her tricks, and then helped us win that sand castle contest? The girl who helped us make our float the way WE wanted? The girl who helped us with the school newspaper—even after you started your own just to irritate me? The girl who understood me on our last Thanksgiving? The girl who comforted me when Lila told me she wanted nothing to do with me? Maybe…” He looked up again. “Maybe under the mask of the bully, there’s a pure heart in there after all.”

     She chuckled and uncrossed her arms, “Oh, there’s plenty you DON’T know, Football Head. I…might as well tell you now—after all, there’s nothing left for me to lose here.” She sighed at the finality of it all, but at least they would be able to part ways on good terms. “I’m the one who helped find Mister Hyunh’s daughter, in exchange for those Spumoni boots. I helped you save Mighty Pete, not to get back at my dad, but to help YOU. I…did all that for you because I once loved you.”

 

     “ _Loved”._

_Past tense again._

 

     “And now…” Helga looked down.

     “I…suppose you no longer like-me like-me… _love_ me…after all you found out about me…” he closed his eyes in shame, “…after what I almost did to you…”

 

     _Did she?_

 

     In front of her was the boy she had loved for the past six years, completely vulnerable, defenceless, powerless, having bared his soul to her and to her only.

 

     _Isn’t that what she wanted to do with him all this time, but was held back by fear and cowardice? Didn’t she want the two of them to bare their souls to each other, in order to accept each other and thusly love each other unconditionally, without hiding anything?_

 

     “I…” she faltered.

 

     _Had she truly fallen out of love?_

_…or…_

_…had she just been in shock at knowing just HOW MUCH MORE there was to the boy she loved?_

 

     “I dunno, Football Head,” she slowly approached him. He was already spent, so she doubted he was going to have another meltdown or explosion, but she wanted to take things slowly. “All I see in front of me is a boy who built up a wall of kindness in order to hide his hate while I…” she turned away, ashamed, “…while I built up a wall of hate to hide my kindness. So when you really think about it,” she realised with surprise, “we’re more alike than you think. Though at least you built up as much kindness as you could, and not hate…like I did. I suppose…” She moved closer. “I suppose I should start being kind now. Arnold,” she sighed, “I’m sorry I took your dream journal and read it without your permission. There, are you happy?”

     The boy stood, faltering a bit; emotional breakdowns were physically exhausting, he realised. “And I’m sorry for taking out all my anger on you. I…should have known better. If you no longer love me, then…at least I hope you don’t hate me.”

     She chuckled, “Oh, Arnold, I’ve both loved AND hated you for so long.”

     He raised his right eyebrow. “Huh? How is that possible.”

     “And as I explain that, I might as well say that we’re both more or less ‘even’ when it comes to reading private books without each other’s permission.”

     It was his turn to cross his arms. “Okay, now what are you talking about?”

 

     The girl smiled a _very_ mischievous smile and recited:

 

_“H is for the head I’d like to punt._

_E is for every time I see the little runt_

_L is longing for our firstest kiss._

_G is for how good that longing is._

_A is for Arnold.”_

 

     The boy’s jaw almost hit the grass.

 

     “That pink book was YOURS???!!!!”

     “Seriously, Football Head, my handwriting was the last you and Gerald were going to analyse, and you never did. If you had bothered to do it, you would have found me out. Though if you had taken a DNA test of the hair you found in the book, you would have found out that it was YOUR hair, not of any girl. Seriously, what were you thinking there?”

     Arnold staggered to the tree and leaned back on it. “Wow…just…wow…” He couldn’t say anything.

     “And the reason I both loved you and hated you…” It was her turn to feel shame, and she looked away. “I fell in love with you when you protected me from the rain, back when we were three, but because I didn’t want anyone to think I was weak by openly loving you, I hid my feelings under the mask of the bully, and I hated you because I had to hide my love and be a horrible person…I hated you because I couldn’t stop loving you…and I hated myself because I hated the boy I loved.” She rubbed her arms protectively. “Believe me, the last thing I have is a pure heart.”

     He was still recovering from the previous revelation, and he finally turned to her, “I’ll…be sure to give back your book once we get home.” He rubbed his temples and added, “Wow, when you said everything you did on top of the FTI building, I figured you had it bad, but…not THAT bad.”

     “That’s right. And it was even worse than those crushes you had on Miss Felter, Ruth, and Lila…it was worse for me then, too…” she whispered in shame.

     “Don’t forget Cecile,” he quickly added, and she suddenly looked up. “One reason why I’ve…I wasn’t sure how I felt about you, even after you told me how you felt, is because I had a pen-pal, who supposedly flew in from France, and we had one date…it didn’t turn out too well, but…she was a wonderful girl…but she wasn’t the Cecile I exchanged letters with. I suppose…I want to see her again, find out who she REALLY is, and why she only wanted ONE date with me. If anything, it would be the end of a long mystery I haven’t been able to solve, and maybe, only then, I will be able to tell you how I feel about you, though I don’t know if you still feel the same way about me like you did before—”

     As soon as he mentioned Cecile, Helga sighed, raised her hands to her head, and undid her pink ribbon, followed by her undoing her pigtails and letting her hair flow down, followed by a quick rearrangement of her locks and bangs so that they flowed over her face, covering her left eye. Then she re-tied her ribbon in the form of a bow on top of her hair.

 

     Once again, the boy’s jaw dropped.

     “YOU!!!”

 

     Helga wasn’t sure if he was overwhelmingly angry one more time, but if he wanted to hit her for that deception, she would not stop him. She sagged her arms, looked at the grass, and sighed. “Yes, Arnold, ‘Cecile’ is just another one of my masks, the one that did not allow you to love anyone except me. I felt so terrible for deceiving you…and I _still_ feel terrible about it…” Suddenly she turned to him, “By the way, whatever _did_ happen to the real Cecile? Last I saw her she was walking off with Tall Hair Boy, and from the way he’s been joined at the hip lately with Phoebe, I’m guessing they didn’t hit it off?”

     Arnold shook himself from his shock in order to reply, “She…uh…she…she could only stay one week in Hillwood, and then she returned to France. Gerald told me that he had to come up with a lot of stuff in order for her not to suspect anything, and eventually he told her that he already had a girlfriend, and…” His left hand rubbed his head. “She…never wrote me after that. But you…” He stared at her, “YOU were Cecile that night???”

     Ashamed, she looked at him in the eye, and the only thing she could reply was, “Yes. I’m…so sorry, Arnold, for ruining your date. I thought I had the perfect plan, but…everything went wrong.”

     Arnold almost started pacing. “But…but…” He moved closer and grabbed her hands. For a moment, Helga thought he was going to knock her down again, or hit her, but the look on his face wasn’t one of rage or hatred, but of pleading and desperation, and…and…

 

     _…eagerness?_

 

     _Did the spark in his eyes return?_

 

     “Hel…Helga…was…” He was having trouble finding words to this revelation. “Was…was that _really_ a mask, though? Or…or was that…the REAL you, having taken OFF the mask? I mean…you were…so nice…so…romantic…so…pretty…so…”

 

     The hold of her hands softened.

 

     “… _beautiful_ …”

 

     _Beautiful?_ Her??? Was he falling for her now that he knew the truth? Even now after she…after she…

 

     The spark in his eyes had finally returned, and now…did she…did she…

 

     _…want to fall in them again?_

 

     She shook herself and pulled her hands away. “I…don’t know if that was the real me, okay???” She turned from him, unsure of everything now. “All I know is that it was surprisingly easy to be the girl you wanted me to be…so easy to be so loving and kind and romantic…maybe…” She hugged herself again. “Maybe it’s all those romance novels I read…or those poems I wrote…but…it all felt so…”

     “Natural?” he hoped.

     “… _and perfect_ …” she whispered.

 

     He wanted to place his hands on her shoulders, assure her that he wasn’t angry or upset, and that she could confide anything with him, that he _liked_ what she had behind the mask she wore, that he _accepted_ her flaws, just as she had accepted his for so long…

 

     All he could do was stand behind her for a long moment, letting her be, without any interference from him.

 

     Finally, he said, “You know, I still have your red shoe.”

     “I…I know,” she whispered. “I still have the other one. I couldn’t make myself throw it away, knowing that there was the possibility that one day…we’d both bring them together again.”

     “We…we might still…be able to…” he whispered back.

 

     _He wants me, but…do I still want him? Is the spark in his eyes that which has drawn me to him for so long? Do I still want him, knowing that he has a dark side? What…what else did his dream involve that I don’t know? Is there anything else about him that is dark?_

 

     She looked down again, and saw her locket still on the ground, next to his dream journal, so she picked both up. She gave him back his notebook, but didn’t hide her locket like she always did. Instead, she opened it, revealing Arnold’s picture, and the dedication.

     Much to his relief, the locket, and the picture, were still intact, unlike how they were at the end of his dream.

     Apparently changing the conversation, she asked, “What…else did you dream? You confirmed that I had a locket all along, but I read as far as you putting my locket in the centre of that machine that somehow made it rain the cure on everyone, and then all the adults woke up, including your parents, and then you saw me trying to get my locket back, and then we started talking. What happened then?”

     He smiled, at last. Softly, he placed his hands on her shoulders, and gently turned her to look at her in her deep blue eyes. “Do…you _really_ want to know what happened after that? I didn’t kill anyone, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

     His gentle hands seemed to drive away the fear she had previously. Did the boy she loved return?

 

     _Did she love him again?_

 

     Nervously, she said, “Puh, well, no, but…did I re-confess? Or did you figure everything out? I…guess I’m just curious about finding out, and…you know…I thought that for _once_ I’d be polite and ask you.”

     He almost chuckled. “Well, if you’re being nice about it…”

 

     To their joint surprise, Arnold showed her what happened after that.

     He pressed his lips against hers.

 

     Helga’s eyes shot open in absolute shock, even bigger than the one she had earlier when she thought her beloved was a psychopath. So shocked she was, in fact, that her brain couldn’t engage the fantasy she had of that moment, the one where Arnold would kiss her from his own volition, and she would embrace him and hold him tight against her trembling body, and the kiss would deepen, and they would be lost in the kiss, not caring who saw them—

 

     So, she simply went limp and fell to the ground, with Arnold falling right along.

 

     “H-Helga?” he asked, now wondering if he had done something completely despicable.

 

     The girl blinked; the jolt of the sudden fall seemed to have returned her to her senses, but the tingling on her lips was still there. Her eyes focused, and they locked on the emerald orbs that stared at her with worry, and not with rage as they had done several minutes ago.

 

     “Ar…Arnold…”

 

     Then, her brain came back on line, and the first thing it did was recite to itself:

 

     _Oh, my beloved preteen._

_The revelation of your dark side did indeed almost snuff out the love I had for you,_

_But the dark side also revealed your own weakness, as well as my own, my own dark side,_

_Despite me placing you on a pedestal as the epitome of masculine perfection._

_You have shown me your flaws._

_You have not proven yourself unworthy of my love_

_But only proven you’re as much human as I am, despite my protests._

_And you’ve shown to me we’re much more alike than I realised,_

_Much more COMPATIBLE._

_And that losing you would have also meant losing my mojo,_

_My spark,_

_My inspiration,_

_My real self._

_And only with you by my side can I truly be the complete woman I yearn to be_

_Because you complete me_

_Just as much as I complete you…_

_…complete…_

_…we’re complete…_

_…finally…_

_…we’re complete…_

 

     “You…” she squeaked. “You…kissed me…in your dream?” Her cerebral functions continued to restart, and now she was coming to a huge realisation. “You… _wanted_ to kiss me in your dream? And…I…didn’t object?”

     “Exactly, after all you did, after you showed me your pure heart. And in my dream, everything added up; everything made sense; all your bullying, your confessions, the favours you did, and I see why my dream self wanted to kiss you, which is why _I_ wanted to kiss you for real. There was no way I was going to let my subconscious have all the fun, you know,” he chuckled, laying beside her and propping himself on his right elbow. “And…I don’t want this to be a one-time thing, like FTI, or the beach, or the school play.” He breathed deeply, feeling content. “I…if you were the Cecile of that night, who made everything perfect, then…perhaps I do have deep feelings for you after all…and…” He smiled the smile that made her melt. “And it seems that I had them for you all along, but I was too dense to realise it. But…” His smile disappeared. “I don’t know if you still… _want_ me, though…now that you know the ‘real’ me, I suppose, dark side and everything.”

     She turned to him, propping herself up on her left elbow. It took her a while for her speech functions to return to normal, and after a few false starts, she finally said, “Ar…Arnold…look, Football Head,” she smiled. “What you showed me right now is that you’re not perfect, or…not as much as I thought you were, and you KNOW you’re not perfect. You…seem to have anger issues much bigger than mine, too. But…without you…” she struggled to keep her eyes dry. “Without you, I felt hopelessly lost, like suddenly half of myself no longer existed. And when you kissed me just now…” She blushed, and the boy could see the spark in _her_ eyes. “Everything…everything became perfect and complete again. You may have flaws, but…I _still_ see you as perfect, as much as you saw me as Cecile and thought I was perfect, and you still want me despite my own flaws. Perhaps what we could do,” she closed her eyes for a while, wanting to make sure that this was said correctly. “What we could do…we could try…to work it out between us, and see how much of a nice boy there really _is_ to you, dark side or not, and maybe you’ll be able to see just how much of Cecile there really _is_ to me.”

     He smiled and held her hand. “That…sounds like a great idea.”

     They remained laying on the grass holding hands, under the shade of the tree, for a while, studying each other’s eyes.

     “Did you wake up right after the kiss? From the way you got angry, it seems like something that just HAD to happen. I mean, I’m sure everyone has their share of dreaming awesome dreams and then waking up right on the best part.”

     Arnold laughed. “Well, no…but…um, I didn’t wake up _for real_ then. When we were kissing, Gerald interrupted us, and he and my parents were watching us—”

     She groaned in frustration and rubbed her forehead, “Crimeny, can that get any MORE embarrassing?”

     “—and that’s when I woke up in my dream. I ran downstairs and saw my grandparents and the boarders having breakfast, and I thought everything was happening all over again, but then my parents came out of the kitchen and everything was fine and we all had breakfast. Then my parents walked Gerald and me to school, and we met you and Phoebe on the way, and you wouldn’t let me hold your hand, and we went inside while my parents decided to wait outside…” He looked away, “And _that’s_ when I woke up for real.”

     Feeling sympathy— _and love_ again—for him, she gently squeezed his hand. “I feel your pain, Arnold. I don’t know how many dreams I’ve had, with you, where it seems that I will have a Happily-Ever-After ending, and I end up waking up on my bed with everything the same as it was before…” She suddenly realised something. “Crimeny, I hope I’m not dreaming NOW, that would just be awful!!! I…” She pulled his hand to herself. “I hope you’re not dreaming, either. You don’t deserve that kind of cruelty from the Powers That Be.”

     He squeezed her hand in return. “We’ve haven’t had many happy endings, but maybe…” He moved closer to her. “Maybe…there can be a happy _beginning_ …for us…”

     Her eyes widened, “What…what do you mean?”

     He just smiled and kissed her again.

     Despite her previous false start, this time Helga was _ready_ , and she eagerly returned his affection, feeling her emotions swell inside her as the love she had for him for the past six years was finally being expressed, and returned.

     Mutual dizziness forced them to stop, unfortunately; despite their familiarity with the theory of kissing, they didn’t have much practical experience on how to kiss and breathe simultaneously.

     “I…feel dizzy,” he repeated with a chuckle. “I need to lie down.”

     Still with dreamy eyes, she countered, “Wonderful—I’ll go with you.”

     Arnold remembered his immediate objection, which included the possibility of continuing where they left off. This time, however, he said, “There’s…there’s time for THAT now, Helga. There’s… _plenty_ of time for _that_ now.”

     She raised the left half of her eyebrow at him, “Wow, Football Head, how long have you wanted to say that to me?”

     He shook his head, “That…that is what I _should_ have done after we saved the neighbourhood. But after everything was over, all I wanted was to talk to you about what happened on the roof, but you didn’t seem to want to bring it up again. After the April Fools’ Day dance, and all we did to each other, I almost gave up hope on you really liking me the way you said you did, but…” He brushed her bangs away from her eyes. “It looks like my subconscious loved you way before my conscious self did.”

     Helga blinked, “R…really? You… _did_ love me all that time?”

     “I did, but I was too dense to realise it,” he sighed. “But now that I do, let’s continue, shall we? At least before Gerald shows up and interrupts us for real.”

     “Puh. I wouldn’t be surprised if he did, but at this point…” She let go of his hand and placed her arms around her beloved. “I don’t care if he shows up. Just…kiss me…and then we’ll see where this happy beginning takes us.”

     He also embraced her, and the two kissed again.

 

     Despite the odds, it was right about now when Gerald appeared, obviously looking for Arnold. As he walked around the mountain and saw the tree, at first he wasn’t sure if he was seeing Arnold lying on the grass; after all, he could make out his blonde hair and blue shirt, but there was something next to him that he couldn’t identify. Walking closer, he was wondering if he was seeing what he _thought_ he was seeing, and he was about twenty metres away when he suddenly stopped, realising just WHAT he was seeing.

     His first reaction would be to give grunts of approval, which would, of course, make Arnold and Helga separate in surprise and embarrassment.

 

     _But he suppressed it._

 

     His second reaction would be to say something that would embarrass them even more, something like, “Now I’ve seen everythin’” or “Well, I can’t say that this was entirely unexpected” or even “Arnold, why are you swappin’ spit with the school bully?”

 

     _But he suppressed it._

 

     Instead, he just smiled.

     And quietly, he started walking away, still smiling.

     Phoebe, who had been right beside him and also saw their best friends making out on the grass, smiled as well and took hold of his right arm.

     She leaned on to him as they walked away, and whispered, “Thanks, Gerald, for knowing when to just stay away and be quiet.”

     “Hey, my main man would have never forgiven me if I had interrupted him. And after all that’s happened to him, he kinda needed this.”

     Blushing, she leaned up and kissed his right cheek, surprising the taller boy, and making him stop. “I love you,” she whispered again.

     “I…” Blushing like crazy, and hoping against hope that neither Arnold nor Helga saw him like this, he stuttered, trying to say the response he was _supposed_ to say. “Ph-Phoebe—I—um—we—you just—I just—I want—that is—you see—”

     She hushed him with a right index finger on his thick lips. “Oh, I know you love me too, ‘babe’, it’s something that I’ll have to patiently wait for until you’re articulate enough to actually say it. And believe me, I know that will be something worth waiting for.” She then placed both arms around his shoulders, and instinctively, the blushing boy with the racing heart placed his arms around her waist. Phoebe then glanced at their best friends, who were still on the ground, and blushed. “Does…that give you any ideas, ‘babe’?” she asked her now-boyfriend.

     Inarticulate or not, her question triggered something primal in his brain, in the area that sought information for basic survival. “H-huh? Wait…hold…now just hold on a minute there, girl! We’ve barely got together, and now you wanna sign up for Advanced French 101?”

     She giggled.

 

     _And he loved that giggle._

 

     Blushing as deeply as he was, she leaned closer, and whispered again, “It’s the _quiet ones_ you have to watch out for, love.”

 

     The taller boy understood.

 

     And that afternoon another couple had a happy beginning as well.


	17. Chapter 15: Ghosts of Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We start to wrap things up.

**FIFTEEN – GHOSTS OF MEMORIES**

 

 

     The sun was low in the western sky when the four American kids decided that they should check up on the adults, so they stopped their separate games of tonsil hockey and returned to the assigned cave; once Helga had re-done her pigtails and hair ribbon. Esther would have noticed that the four had VERY big smiles on their faces, not to mention that their eight eyes glistened with a newfound spark—more so on her nephew and the neglected girl who would be her next social assistance—and the reason why she _didn’t_ notice was because she was too busy trying to get Miles, Stella, and Eduardo to remember using the mementos that the helicopter had brought them at dawn.

 

     Naturally, Phil and Gertie noticed _perfectly_.

     Kurt didn’t notice, though, with him being a _guy_.

     Eduardo’s wife and daughter didn’t notice, not with them still being so distraught.

 

     The four kids sat down on the stone outcrops next to the walls and looked at Arnold’s aunt as she showed her patients picture after picture, to no avail.

     Helga looked down and saw on the stone floor all the previous pictures that Esther had used, discarded as if they were useless garbage; it was of their moments at HfH headquarters, at college, at airports, working in villages and jungles, and some birthday parties, too. She took a glance at the nearly empty memento box and realised that Esther was on her last legs. If nothing worked, they would have to take Miles, Stella, and Eduardo back to the city, and then back to Hillwood, and pray they would find a REALLY good brain surgeon.

     Arnold, Gerald, and Phoebe also realised that Esther’s attempts had all but failed, and that was enough to remove the wide smiles from their faces, but not so much to remove the spark in her eyes.

     As Esther dropped another picture, Helga quipped, “Are you sure amnesia can’t be fixed with just another blow to the head?”

     The woman sighed in exhaustion and laid flat on her back on the stone floor, practically defeated. “No, dear, another blow just makes things worse. And I tried everything: pictures, documents, songs, even pork, nuts, beans, and cereal!!!” Kurt, meanwhile, laid next to her to hold her hand, as he, too, was mentally and emotionally spent.

     Phoebe was stumped when she heard those last items listed. “Um…Doctor Antoine, how do pork, nuts, beans, and cereal help? Did your sister love those foods growing up?”

     Esther rubbed her head. “No, Phoebe, those foods are rich in vitamin B1, which helps the brain form long-term memories. I was hoping that the food that they ate here at the village might have been low in vitamin B1, but no, they had a balanced diet all these years. If everything else fails, we’re going to have to take them back to town and hope that the videos we show them will trigger SOME memories.”

     “And if that doesn’t work, we’ll go back to Hillwood?” asked Arnold.

     “And place them in rehab,” finished Gertie. Even her joviality seemed to have worn out at all the failed attempts to get her son’s memory back. _What kind of son wouldn’t remember his own mother?_

 

     Arnold looked at the three amnesic adults, who only saw him and the others with blank expressions, well, blank _exhausted_ expressions, as the ordeal had taken a lot of energy from them as well. The boy turned to Eduardo’s wife and daughter, who were sitting on the floor, and Hortensia was leaning on her mother, also quite exhausted.

 

     Truly, it had been a gruelling day for everyone involved.

 

     As his aunt rested on the floor, Arnold looked inside the box to see what mementos were remaining.

     And he was quite surprised by what he saw.

     “Aunt…Aunt Esther, you brought my father’s journal? And the map? And…pictures of Abner?” He looked at her, “When…when did you bring all this?”

     “I packed those,” replied Gertie. “Your parents’ anniversary is coming up, and I wanted to give them something for the two to remember…but now I don’t know if they’ll be able to. Pictures of you growing up wouldn’t have helped, since they haven’t seen you grow up…”

 

     _Even Gertie seemed defeated._

 

     Arnold looked at his grandparents, then at his parents and Eduardo, then at Eduardo’s wife and daughter, then at his aunt and uncle, and finally at his friends. He then grabbed the last items, sat between his parents—much to their slight annoyance at this strange boy who had no idea what personal space was—opened the journal to the first page, and began:

     “March 15th. Today I met the woman I’m going to marry. We met when I stumbled into a research party. I was out hiking with my college friend, Eduardo,” He stopped to point at the man in front of them. “An anthropologist from San Lorenzo. I fell behind a groove…”

 

     Esther and Kurt turned to look at their nephew read eagerly, loudly, and clearly from the journal.

 

     _And it was their turn for their eyes to widen._

 

     As Arnold read on, Esther and Kurt noticed that Miles and Stella—and even Eduardo at some points—were actively listening to the boy, not just looking blankly at him, and from their eye movement, it almost seemed as if they were reading over his shoulders. Miles’s in-laws sat up, eyeing the scene intensely, and wishing someone had brought along a tape or video recorder.

 

     _Yes, Arnold, keep going!!!_

 

     “She’s amazing. So smart. I told her about my anthropology project; how I’m studying the local culture and helping communities improve the quality of their life. Hope she’s impressed. Hmm. Maybe she thinks I’m a goof. Oh well, call me a romantic, but I think we’re perfect for each other…” Esther and Kurt stood as he continued, and then sat next to Stella, holding hands and with bright smiles on their faces.

 

     _Is that recognition I see?_

 

     Thirty minutes later was where things appeared to reach a plateau. Arnold was one-third of the way through the journal, and while Miles and Stella seemed enraptured by the voice of the boy, they made no other indication or gesture that their memories were returning. It was also here where Arnold stopped. He _had_ to stop, as his throat was getting dry, and he hadn’t had anything to drink in quite a while.

     His aunt exclaimed, “No! Arnold, please, keep going! Someone, get him some water!!!” Phil, Gertie, and the kids scrambled to open their backpacks to get him some bottled water, and practically shoved their canteens in his face, much to Miles and Stella’s surprise.

     Politely, Arnold took _Helga’s_ canteen and drank greedily from it, being sure to remember to let her borrow his afterward.

 

     He continued, “…‘Undorted’ by the surprise visit from Mother Nature, the reception continued until the wee hours. It was quite a time. Even the Green-Eyed People showed up.” Arnold gestured at the villagers around them. “Of course, none of us actually saw them. Instead, they sent a little boat with their wedding present. ‘What is it?’ I asked. My new wife said, ‘It’s a piglet. From the Green-Eyed People.’ ‘Oh, I’ve heard about this. It’s a tradition. It’s meant to bring good luck.’ Eduardo complained, ‘Why didn’t you get the pig BEFORE the earthquake?’” Again he pointed at the man with his wife and daughter. “My dad was practically slobbering when he said, ‘Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s fire up the grill!’” Now he pointed at Phil. “But my wife came to the rescue, ‘No, no, we can’t eat her! She’s a gift! And she’s cute!’ ‘Not THAT cute,’ my dad complained. Stella told me, ‘I wanna keep her. As a pet. What do you think, Miles?’ ‘I think it’s a great idea.’ ‘Good. We’ll call her Isabelle.’” Arnold couldn’t help but chuckle here, and after a bit, he continued, “I then unwrapped the piglet, and saw that we had to make an adjustment. ‘On second thought, why don’t we call _him_ —’”

     “Apner.” said Miles.

     “Abnerrr…?” Arnold finished simultaneously, trailing off when his father said the name of the pig. Scrambling to his feet, he shoved the journal to Esther’s hands and grabbed his father’s arms, pleading, “You remember Abner???? YOU REMEMBER ABNER???”

     “Ap…ner…” was all he said for now.

     The boy reached down and grabbed all the remaining pictures, which were precisely of the pig in question.

     “Man, the one thing we made sure didn’t stow away on this trip, and it’s the one thing that could have helped them get their memories back right from the start,” said Gerald.

     As Miles and Stella looked over all the pictures of their wedding present, they both began asking, repeating, “Ap…ner…Ap…ner? Abn…er? Abnnnner…” Miles then took one picture and tapped his index finger on it, right on the face of the pig, “Apner. Abner.” He nodded in recognition, “Abner. Abner. _Yayek_. Abner.”

     Stella then picked up one photo that showed her holding Abner, still wrapped up, and holding him like a baby. She seemed lost in the picture, and then began humming something unintelligible that was neither English nor Spanish nor the natives’ language.

 

     Everyone hushed and stared intently at the woman.

 

     Here, Esther leaned closer to her sister, apparently recognising something in the mumbling.

     Stella mumbled slightly louder, and everyone realised that she was either singing or humming.

     Esther’s tired face brightened, and her smile grew wider.

     Finally, Stella stopped humming, and it seemed like she was singing actual lyrics…

 

     …to a lullaby?

  
_“Na-na-ny, na-na-ny_

_Na nee na na-ny…”_

 

     She kept repeating that, as she was apparently stuck on one line. As she sang again, Esther hummed in backup.

_“Na-na-ny, na-na-ny_

_Na nee na na-ny…”_

 

     Esther sang a bit louder, and Stella’s eyes stopped focusing on the picture.

_“Na-na-ny, na-na-night_

_Na nees and nee-night…”_

 

     Her sister whispered the actual lyrics as Stella became more and more articulate.

_“Null-na-py, and na-night_

_Na neems and nee-night…”_

 

     _Come on, sis, you know how it went!!!_

_“Lullapy, and good night_

_Na dreams and nee-night…”_

 

     Esther joined in as the lyrics were now fully remembered:

_“Lullaby, and good night._

_Sweet dreams and—sleep tight.”_

 

     Miles joined in:

_“No, we love you more each day._

_While you sleep and while you play.”_

 

     The three looked at each other.

_“You so sweet, through and through._

_Stay off the slide ‘till you’re two…”_

 

     “Hey, I think I remember that song,” said Arnold.

     “You might,” said his aunt, as her sister and brother-in-law seemed to be struggling to remember. “Our mother sang that to your mom and me.”

     “Moth…er…” mumbled Stella. She turned to her sister and asked, “Moth…er?” Staring deeply at her, she insisted, “ _Our_ mother…Astrid?”

     “Yes!!!” Esther was practically crying now. “Do you remember our _father’s_ name, too?”

     Stella closed her eyes for a minute, then she looked at the blonde boy who was staring at her as if she were a long lost relative. “Our…father’s name…was………Arnold…Arnold…Michael…Plack? B…Black?”

     Esther chuckled and shook her head. “Almost, sis. Try again.”

     “Arnold…Michael…Part…Partlett…Bartlett.”

     Her sister was openly weeping for joy now.

     The blonde man, meanwhile, had been looking at his journal; the strange squiggles on each page seemed to coalesce into something intelligible. “I’m…Miles…Craig…Short…man? _Doctor_ …Miles…Craig…Shortman?”

     “Shortman…” repeated his wife. “I’m…Stella…Black…Shortman… _Doctor_ …Stella…Shortman…”

     Miles then picked up one picture, which featured him, his wife, his parents, and a baby blonde boy in what looked like a well-kept garden surrounded by rectangular mountains covered with rectangular eyes. “Stella…we…we had a papy _paalatch_ …we named him…Arnold…?”

     “Arnold…” she whispered, looking closely at the picture. “We named him…after my father…Arnold…”

     “And…my father, too…Arnold…Phillip…” He suddenly looked up at the old man in front of him, who was smiling and crying uncontrollably. “…Shortman…Dad? Mom?”

     Phil held Gertie’s hand tightly and said with a joyous hoarse voice, “Welcome back, Sonny.”

     Arnold, meanwhile, was glancing back and forth at this exchange, and he stood in front of them. “Mom? Dad? Do…do you remember me, too? It’s been a while…but…I’m Arnold Phillip Shortman…your ‘papy’—baby— _paalatch_ …or ‘boy’, if that’s what I think that word means.”

     “Ar…nold?” asked Stella, looking at the boy, and then at the picture.

     “Arnold,” repeated Miles.

 

     Then it hit them.

 

     _Same blonde hair._

_Same oblong head._

_Same green eyes._

_Same white skin._

_Same blue cap!!!_

 

     “Arnold!!!” yelped Stella, now with a definite mother-tone, as if she were asking him why he didn’t come home from school right away.

     Miles then reached out and felt the boy’s head and hair, wondering if he was real, or if this whole thing was a dream. “Arnold,” he said clearly. By now there were no dry eyes in the cave. “Arnold! My papy _poy_!!! ARNOLD!!!

     The “poy” in question almost yelped when strong arms picked him up and held him in a bear hug, followed by Stella’s arms, and then Phil’s and Gertie’s. Esther couldn’t hug them all, but she was content to just hold her sister’s shoulder and cry there, while Kurt simply held his wife close to him.

     “You’re back! You’re finally back!!!” The boy’s muffled cries could barely be heard from the centre of the group hug, while his parents simply repeated his name over and over, lest they forget again.

 

     Helga, Gerald, and Phoebe were watching this exchange filled with joy, of course, but they couldn’t help noticing that on the other side of the cave, Eduardo was looking at the family with confusion, and still with no recognition. His wife was practically shoving the pictures in his face, tapping the people in them, obviously pointing out that they were his best friends. She also showed him pictures of Hortensia as a baby, but Eduardo still had no reaction.

     Finally, Ingrid gave up. She let the pictures fall on the stony ground, sat on an outcrop, covered her face, and cried. Moments later, her daughter hugged her and wept as well.

     Phoebe removed her glasses to clean them as well as to wipe her tears. “Doctor García…” she squeaked, and Ingrid looked up at her. “I’m…I’m sorry. I know you don’t understand me, but maybe…” She pointed at Miles and Stella and pantomimed them receiving a soft blow to the head, then she pointed at Eduardo and pantomimed him receiving a harder blow.

     _This time_ , Gerald understood clearly. “Yes, Doctor García. When the plane crashed, Miles and Stella got hit on the head hard, but your husband got the worst of it. That’s…that may be why he can’t remember.”

     The Asian-American girl squeezed his hand. “Or _won’t_ be able to remember.” She stood straight, looked at Ingrid, and struggled to remember some bits and pieces of Spanish she had managed to pick up during her time here. “Doctor García… _yo_ … _lo_ …” _Drat, what was that other word?_ “… _sento_ …” Slumping slightly in defeat, it was all she could do to offer her condolences. “ _Lo…siento…lo siento_.”

     Esther had managed to see the exchange, so her joy was dampened with disappointment and defeat. She released her sister and walked up to Eduardo, and began pleading and scolding him in Spanish, so only Ingrid and Hortensia were able to understand. From her gesturing and the few names that crept up, she was apparently asking him how he could not remember his best friends, their wedding, or even his own wife and daughter, not to mention that it was he who had asked the Shortmans to return to San Lorenzo and helped fight the new outbreak of the Sleeping Sickness.

     The Shortman family, too, stopped their emotional celebration for a moment, to look with sadness at the man, and at his distraught wife and daughter. Without releasing their son, Miles and Stella approached him.

     “Eduardo?” asked Miles.

     “ _¿No nos recuerdas?_ You don’t remember us?” added Stella.

     “You…prought us here,” Miles continued. It was gradually getting easier for them to remember their English, but some native terms still kept creeping up, and they couldn’t quite yet fully grasp again the sound of ‘B’. “You asked us, ‘ _Me’enut’seo_ , one final mission’.”

 

     “ _Me’enut’seo_ …one……final……mission…”

 

     Ingrid and Hortensia slowly stood as Eduardo repeated Miles’ phrase.

 

     “ _Me’enut’seo_ …one…final…mission…”

 

     The man blinked and rubbed his temple with his right hand, as if he were getting a headache.

 

     “ _Please_ …one…final…mission…one…final…mission?” He looked up. “Miles? S-Stella?” He felt a hand touch his right arm, and turned to see two women with pleading eyes. “In…Ingrid?” He looked down to see a little girl smile at him with teary eyes. _“¿Tenchita?”_

_“¿Lalito?”_

     _“¿Papá?”_

 

     What followed was an avalanche of memories that cascaded through the man’s brain, followed by a teary reunion similar to what the Shortmans had just experienced.

     And as the other family was reunited, Esther said, “Looks like we won’t need to go back to town that quickly after all.” She turned to her nephew and caressed his blonde locks. “Thank you, Arnold. I was about to give up, but you gave that final push that triggered the memory recall.”

     The boy sniffed and wiped his tears. “Huh? But…Aunt Esther…I…I only showed them the last items on the box. Weren’t _you_ going to show them those anyway, if you hadn’t been so tired?”

     “I might have. But reading the journal out loud was _your_ idea.”

     “That’s right,” added Kurt. “All day long, we only focused on the visuals: the pictures and documents. We were going to use video and audio recordings once we got back to the city, but you jumped ahead of us by reading out loud.”

     “Like your grandfather taught you,” quipped Phil, messing up his grandson’s hair.

     “And it’s a relief that you two remembered when you did,” said Gertie, playfully pulling on her son’s and daughter-in-law’s ears. “If Arnold had read any further, he would have reached the honeymoon page!”

 

     Miles stood back, stunned.

 

     “I wrote apout that?” He blinked and then shivered slightly. “Y…yes, yes I did. For a…uh…time, I thought I was reading a…a…stranger’s p…book…then I r…realised…it…it was…me…”

     “And I…r…remempered the song,” added Stella. “The…the one…uh…”

     “The one our mother sang to us?” asked her sister.

     “ _Yayek_ …I mean…yes…I…didn’t un…understand…the words…at first but then…then I did…Thanks for h…helping me rememper, _Ko’ole’thar_.”

     Esther raised an eyebrow. “ _Ko’ole’thar_?”

     Stella chuckled and struggled to find the word in her newly restored memory, “S…Sis… _Little_ Sis,” she smiled.

     The siblings hugged and cried.

 

     _At least she didn’t call her “ Baby Sister”,_ thought Helga.

 

     Miles, meanwhile, turned to his journal again, wondering something about the final pages. Struggling to read his own handwriting, he stuttered, “We…ll…ne…ver…let you…out…of…our…s…sight…ag…ain…”

     Stella turned from her sister and repeated, “We’ll…never let you…out of our sight…again…I said that.”

     “And I…wrote it…pecause…we…we _ta’anilat’h_ …er…we…gave our word…”

     “Promised,” said Esther.

     “We…promised to…never let you…out of our sight…” Miles began bawling at the realisation. “Oh…Arnold…Arnold…I’m sorry…so sorry!!!”

     Stella, too, suddenly realised how long it had been since they last saw their baby boy, and what they had promised before they left, so she also broke down in tears, this time because of regret. Phil and Gertie comforted them, as well as Arnold.

     “Don’t be…don’t be…it’s not your fault…not your fault,” his muffled cries sounded from within the group hug.

 

     Seeing the families reconciled, Helga tapped Phoebe’s shoulder. The Asian-American girl almost jumped at the gesture, and when she turned to look at her best friend, Helga nodded toward the entrance of the cave. Understanding what she meant, she held Gerald’s hand. The boy turned to his girlfriend, puzzled at what she wanted, but also understood when she pointed at the entrance.

     The three American kids quietly took their backpacks and left the two families alone to enjoy their moment of reunion, and the other Helpers for Humanity workers followed them outside as well.

     As they walked down the tunnel to the main entrance, the three didn’t seem to mind the “one-with-nature” kids anymore, or not as much as before.

     Just then, their path was stopped by the villager who had first found them. He was excitedly leading the chief and his wife toward the visitors’ cave, as he had also witnessed the miracle, and he wanted to show his leaders that the people who fell from the sky and healed them of that terrible sleeping disease were now fully sound in their minds. The kids stood aside and instinctively bowed at the leaders, who stopped for a moment to look at them, apparently without any emotion, but no one could miss the light smile that both he and his wife gave them at that moment before continuing their way.

     With the path clear, the three continued on their way outside.

     “Looks like we’ll have to find another cave to sleep in,” said Helga. “Not…” she quickly added. “Not that I mind. Arnold…needs to be with his parents now, just like Eduardo with his wife and daughter.”

     “I just hope they’re able to remember everything,” pondered Phoebe with worry. “Given that the three of them are doctors, they might need refresher courses on their doctorates to catch up with the rest of the world, not to mention relearning how to pronounce the letter ‘B’.”

     “Well, babe, they seem to have the most important stuff down,” said her boyfriend. “And if they have that, the rest can wait. Now, how about the three of us grab some of the local grub? It’s dinner time, practically.”

     Just then, the three kids stepped out of the mountain and saw that it was indeed night time; the crescent moon having come up to a quarter of the way from the eastern horizon.

     Helga looked at Gerald with a raised left half of her eyebrow, “You sure you wanna take a risk and eat the native food, Tall Hair Boy? We still have some snacks left over in our backpacks…or at least _I_ do.”

     “Perhaps we could trade them for what the adults are eating now, you know, make a cultural exchange—”

     “—and pray we don’t cause a cultural meltdown. Crimeny, Pheebs, if we think some of their food is disgusting, it’s just as likely that they might think the same thing about a _granola bar_.”

     They walked to where some men and women had a bonfire going, cooking something they couldn’t identify, but given the emotional workout they did all day long, _anything_ looked good to them at this point.

 

     And as Phoebe approached the natives to try to explain that they wanted to share and exchange their food with them, Helga looked back at the tunnel entrance, and the mountain where her beloved was.

 

     _Looks like you were needed to help adults after all, my love. I’m so glad you recovered your spark when you did, otherwise, even the “professional” help would have been left high and dry._

 

     She then turned and saw Gerald chuckling, but still looking in awe at how quickly Phoebe was picking up the gestures and even a few terms from the natives’ language.

 

     _And I’m glad we were here to help you as well, my love. We…we all need each other…not as much as you need your parents, but…we make a good team, at least._

 

     Looking up to the clear night, and seeing constellations and galaxies she normally couldn’t see in the light-polluted sky of Hillwood, she sighed in contentment.

 

     _Looks like it’s going to be a great summer after all._


	18. Epilogue: Summer Found / Credits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now, the exciting conclusion...

**EPILOGUE – SUMMER FOUND**

 

 

     The natives crowded around the military helicopter, not quite believing that something so heavy, and made of something similar to their spearheads and jewellery, could fly like a bird, or even hover like a hummingbird, or even be noisier than the entire village shouting like they did when it was announced that their “saviours” had recovered from their strange disease of the mind. Even the chief and his wife were inspecting the aircraft, being given a “tour” by the old pilot.

     It was noon now, several days after the Shortmans and Eduardo recovered their memories. The three adults were still dressed in their native garb, though, and despite Esther having brought western clothing for them, they decided to forego that for now, given that they were in the middle of the tropical summer now. The men still had long hair, beards, and moustaches, albeit now well groomed. The group, along with the children, were walking toward the helicopter.

     “Are you sure you don’t want to return to Santa Clara, even just to report to the head of the chapter? They HAVE been looking for you for six years, you know,” said Kurt. “And I hear there’s talk of six years’ back pay, too—OOF!” he chuckled just before his wife elbowed his ribs.

     “We…we’re going to take things slowly and gradually,” replied Miles.

     “That might be a problem, ‘brother’.” Esther explained, “With you three now fully fluent in the Green-Eyed People’s language, and having both English _and_ Spanish for cross-referencing, just about every linguist on the planet is on their way here to get the grammar and vocabulary written down and recorded for posterity, not to mention historians are going to want to analyse it to see why it resembles a mix of Mayan and Keltic. You three are very much celebrities in anthropology now; you’ll probably make the cover of _National Geographic_ at least three times before this whole thing blows over, IF it ever blows over.”

     “They’re going to have to take a numper…er…number,” laughed Miles. “P— _B_ ut eventually we’ll return to the city, and then to Hillwood, and continue the language reports there. But first we need to tie up all the loose ends we have here. This place _has_ p—been our home for six years, after all.”

     “That’s right,” added Eduardo as he walked along with his wife and daughter. “We made a lot of friendships here; we’ve helped them out in plenty, just as they helped us py—by finding us and nursing us pack…um…back to health.”

     Stella looked at her in-laws, and stated, “We can’t just simply leave…and apan…abandon them. We…” she looked at her son, as he walked with his three friends. “We don’t want to make that mistake again.”

     “Well,” Esther began, “I’ll be going back to town to prepare more packages for you, mostly videos and news reviews so you’ll catch up with what’s been happening in the world for the last six years, and lessen the ‘Rip Van Winkle’ effect as much as possible before you go back to Hillwood.”

     “Just…don’t take too long, Sis. Sure, we need all the help we can get, but Arnie needs you poth…both.”

     “Speaking of Arnie,” said Phil. “Your mother and I will make sure the boarding house is still in one piece, unless those boarders already burned it down or something. And we’ll be taking Arnold’s friends, too. They were a big help, but they also have families.”

     “Not to mention we have to prepare your room, you know,” smiled Gertie. “And if the boarders brought in another boarder, we’ll kick him out just to make room for you.”

     “Or better yet, we’ll finally evict that bum Kokoshka,” chuckled the elder.

     Miles spat. “You…Oskar Kokoshka is STILL p—boarding there? And he STILL hasn’t found a job?”

     His father explained, “Oh, he has one…but it’s not exactly an executive blue-collar type.”

     “He delivers newspapers,” cackled his mother.

     At that, everyone laughed, except Ingrid and Hortensia, so Eduardo had to translate to them what the Shortmans had just said. Once he was done, the two San Lorenzans laughed as well. Then, Ingrid said something to her husband, a bit lengthy, gesturing to both him, her daughter, and Miles and Stella.

     Once she was done, Eduardo translated again, “My wife says that it’s a good thing that she lives in town; she can take the helicopter to get anything we might need, and Tenchita doesn’t have to sleep here all the time…p—but I don’t mind having her here with me, at last.”

     Kurt said, “We’ll see if the air traffic authorities can come here to take your statement concerning that plane crash, Eduardo. If not, we’ll try to make your visit to town as stress-free as possible.”

     Esther quickly added, “You’ll also have to talk with the insurance company. Since your plane was insured, but it wasn’t found until now, you have quite a hefty sum waiting for you— _besides your six years’ back pay_ —provided Helpers for Humanity can help you get through all the red tape to get it.”

     Eduardo smiled. “Thank you, Esther. For everything, and for not giving up on me.”

 

     As Kurt and Esther hugged the Garcías, the tall blonde man turned to his son, and said, “Arnold, we have no problems with you staying here with us until we’re ready to go pack—back, p—but…you say your friend _also_ won’t have a problem if she stays here?”

     Helga quickly replied before Arnold put his foot in his mouth. “Look, Mile…uh…Mister Shortman… _Doctor_ Shortman. My parents are a bit…what’s the word…‘flighty’, and their jobs take up a lot of their time. That’s why Esth…uh…Doctor Antoine was kind enough to write a special permission slip for me that would let me stay for longer with you. Phoebe and Gerald need to go back, but…we’ve seen that Arnold still needs a friend from Hillwood, even if he has you two back now, at last.”

 

     _And it’s not like Bob and Miriam are going to miss me, even if I don’t come back until I’m fifteen, doi._

 

     “That’s right.” Gerald put an arm around his friend’s shoulders. “Arnold, my man, it’s only been a one-week trip, but I can definitely say that this has been one summer none of us are gonna forget.”

     “Not to mention that it’s one that is definitely real, and not a dream,” added Phoebe, practically stuck at the hip with her beau.

     “Too bad I gotta go back, though. But…” the African-American pondered. “I know you need to be with your folks for a while. And I’m sure they need you here, too, until they can go back home.”

     “Don’t feel _too_ sad, Gerald,” his girlfriend winked at him as she cleaned her glasses. “I’ll be going with you as well.”

     Trying not to blush, he stuttered, “Um…sure, Pheebs…we…gotta make sure Arnie isn’t…uh…messin’ with Arnold’s room…or somethin’…”

     Phoebe finished, “Of course. So with Helga staying here as well, we know you’ll be in good hands, too, Arnold.”

     “Hey, _someone_ has to stay behind and make sure _Arnoldo_ here doesn’t cause a…what was it? A cultural meltdown?” The kids looked at each other for a moment, and laughed again. “Say, Esther, see if you can tell your friends to bring some REAL food here, you know, hamburgers? Hot dogs? Potato chips? Some decent soda, at least? The local cuisine here is…acceptable, I suppose, but I’m really starting to miss good, old fashioned fast food and junk food, you know?”

     The woman laughed and approached Helga. “I’ll see what I can do, and…” she leaned down, “…I _will_ be in contact with your parents. If I can get them in the _right_ parenting seminar, you just _might_ go back to a _real_ home this time.”

     The blonde girl’s usual snarkiness faded away, and for the first time in a long while, she gave a genuine smile at an adult. “Thanks…thanks for everything, Esther. I know I’m no angel, but…I…really appreciate what you’re doing. And…” she sighed sadly, “…and if Bob and Miriam simply _don’t_ change…” She looked at the Shortmans, at how they were giving good-bye hugs to Phil and Gertie. “I think I can give you a good candidate for a foster home, or maybe two,” she nodded at Phoebe.

     “Thank YOU, Helga, for helping here in what you could. Take care of Arnold, will you? He’s in a pretty vulnerable spot right now, with so many changes happening all at once in his social circle. Even if they’re good, they can cause quite an amount of stress for someone his age.”

     “Oh, please, Esther, you underestimate your nephew. If you knew half of the things he’s done to help others, even our whole neighbourhood, and all the stress he went through then…” she looked at her beloved, “…you’d be going to HIM for help. I’m just staying here to make sure the meltdowns don’t repeat, after all, he _did_ have his sad moments back home. Not too many, but he did.”

     With that, Esther and Helga hugged, with the girl _not_ stiffening, but gladly accepting the embrace of an adult, also for the first time in a long while.

 

     “Check on Arnie and my room at least twice a week, okay, Gerald?”

     “And I’ll be sure to show him your note where you give me permission to enter your room whenever I think it’s necessary.”

     “I hope we don’t take TOO long here. You know you need me for the baseball team.”

     “You AND Helga. She may be a grump…well, with the rest of us…but she’s a great coach. I hope the team doesn’t fall apart without you two.”

     The two best friends hugged, and then gave each other their secret handshake.

 

     “So you finally took the leap of faith with Tall Hair Boy, Pheebs?”

     “Much like you took it with ‘Ice Cream’,” giggled the short girl.

     Helga blushed. “Uh…yeah…just…don’t go spreading that around, okay? Not until we’re both back and ready to tell the world.”

     “We’ll keep it under wraps, Helga. And I know Arnold will be in good hands, after all, you’re giving up all the comforts of civilization just to stay with him for maybe a month or more.”

     She sighed dreamily. “When it comes to true love, Phoebe, I would stay in the middle of _Antarctica_ if it meant staying with Arnold. Now, you just take care of Tall Hair Boy, and don’t let him rough you around, okay?”

     “He won’t, Helga. He’s really sweet,” she said, clasping her hands and having little red hearts pop out of her head.

     “I’m serious, Phoebe. If he messes with you, just send me a letter or telegram or something, and I’ll hop on the next plane to Hillwood to pay him a visit along with Ol’ Betsy and the Five Avengers.”

     “I’m right here, you know,” the boy in question leaned in. “And don’t worry about your best friend, Helga. If anythin’, worry about anyone _else_ who tries to mess with her, because they’ll be dealin’ with _me_ LONG before you can mess with them.”

     Helga crossed her arms and huffed at Phoebe’s new boyfriend. “Whatever. But just know that I’ll be holding you to that, Tall Hair Boy. You hear? If I hear anyone did something wrong to my friend and you didn’t do anything, I’ll first deal with them, and then I’ll deal with you.”

     “Should I say the same thing about you and Arnold? He’s MY best friend after all. Can I trust you to treat him well, just like I’ll treat Phoebe well? You HAVE been bullyin’ him since preschool, you know”

     Here, the blonde girl stood still. No boy had ever demanded anything from her the way Gerald was, not without preparing a full insult-filled retort. But with both Arnold and Phoebe present, and realising he had a point, she just replied, “You can trust me, Gerald. Arnold will no longer be bullied by me, and anyone who bullies him will first meet his karate moves, and then Ol’ Betsy and Company. Can we now agree we’ll be good to our best friends, and we’ll beat each other to a pulp if we don’t?”

     He looked at her for a moment, and said, “I can do that.”

     With that, the two settled for a handshake, and then Helga hugged Phoebe good-bye.

 

     Once Phil and Gertie hugged their son and daughter-in-law, it was Esther’s turn to hug her sister. “I’m so glad I found you,” she began without letting her go. “The family hasn’t been the same without you.”

     Stella leaned back to look at her eyes. “I’m so glad you and the rest of our friends never gave up on us, Sis.”

     “You might say that it was your son who was part of the kickstart to get this group trip going. He never gave up on you, just like your in-laws never did, either.”

     “Do you want to spend Christmas with us this year? Somehow…I feel like this holiday season is going to be huge.”

     “We’ll be sure to be there. You’ve seen how much your son has grown, just wait till you see how much your nephew has grown, too!”

     “Arnie!!! How’s he doing?”

     “He’s been doing well, though you might say he’s a bit on the eccentric side, but it’s on the _good_ eccentric side. You’re going to love him.”

     “I’m sure I will. P—Be sure to call him up once you get p—back to town, okay?”

     “I will, _mother_ ,” chuckled Esther, and both siblings laughed and embraced again. Moments later, Kurt hugged Stella, and Miles hugged Kurt, without mincing words, as there was nothing left to say, but instead show the love that the family had for each other.

 

     With that, Phil, Gertie, Kurt, Esther, Gerald, Phoebe, and several Helpers for Humanity workers boarded the helicopter, and the rest backed away to allow it to take off. Once everyone was near the cave entrances, the chief raised his hands and declared something. He gestured at their “saviours” and their children, and at the helicopter. When he finished, the villagers cheered.

     Miles translated for Arnold and Helga, “He declared that their time of secrecy has come to an end, and they’ll allow the Helpers for Humanity workers to come and go as they please, since they’ve shown that they have wanted to help them all this time. He also apologised for keeping their ‘city’ secret, because it was that secrecy that prevented our families from being reunited for so long. He will allow any visitor who proves himself peaceful—meaning that they will have to clear permission with Helpers for Humanity in order to come here. And he has given ‘permission’ to the ‘iron hummingbird’ to take off and go to ‘the land of square mountains’.”

     “Well, Football Head, are you disappointed that he didn’t declare you a god or something?”

     He chuckled. “Nah. I’ll take _this_ reality over any silly old dream.”

     Just then, the helicopter blades began spinning, and moments later the aircraft took off from its improvised helipad, rising above the jungle treetops. All the occupants waved good-bye to everyone on the ground, and everyone on the ground did the same, including the villagers.

     As the helicopter headed back to civilization, inside, the three couples there did what seemed right to do at this point.

 

     Kurt and Esther looked at each other, and they kissed.

     Phil and Gertie looked at each other, and they kissed.

     Gerald and Phoebe looked at each other, and they kissed, deeply, much to his surprise again.

 

     On the ground, Eduardo and Ingrid looked at each other, and they kissed.

     Miles and Stella looked at each other, and they kissed.

     And not wanting to be left out, Arnold and Helga looked at each other—

 

     “There’s time for THAT now again,” he said, smiling, the spark in his eyes shining at full brightness again.

     “There will _always_ be plenty of time for that, Football Head, now that we’re finally together. Now quit being a sap and kiss me already!”

     He chuckled.

 

     _Helga will ALWAYS be Helga._

 

     _And he would ALWAYS love her for that._

 

     Arnold and Helga looked at each other, and they kissed.

 

     It was only the start of the summer he thought he lost by the simple act of waking up, but it looked like it was off to a good beginning.

 

     _For everyone._

 

 

THE END / DAS ENDE / DIE EINDE / EINDE / EL FIN / O FIN / LE FIN / IL FINE / SFÂRŞIT / KONIEC / КОНЕЦ / BEIGAS / LOPPU / ΤΈΛΟΣ / סוף / TAMAT / LIAU LIAU / DANEH O’ / 剧 终 / おわり / UXUL / TLAMILIZTLI

* * *

All characters and places are © Nickelodeon/Craig Bartlett. Used without permission, EXCEPT FOR:

 

The BBB employee, Dr. Jones, Dr. Esther Antoine, Dr. Kurt Antoine, the Helpers for Humanity receptionist, Michelle Sandoval, the hospital receptionist, Doctor Ingrid Dolores de la Cruz de García, Hortensia García de la Cruz, Jorge, the excited native, the chief, and his wife, who are © The J.A.M.

 

 

Starring:

 

Spencer Klein – Arnold

Jamil Walker Smith – Gerald

Francesca Marie Smith – Helga

Anndi McAfee – Phoebe

Dan Castellaneta – Phil

Tress MacNeille – Gertie

Dom Irrera – Ernie

Wally Wingert – Oskar and Mister Hyunh

Dan Butler – Mister Simmons

Mary Gross – Nurse Shelly

David Wohl – Principal Wartz

Kath Soucie – The Lunch Lady

Christopher Castile – Eugene

Sam Gifaldi – Sid

Toran Caudell – Wolfgang

Craig Bartlett – Brainy and Abner and Miles

John Moschitta – The BBB Employee

Maurice Lamarche – Big Bob

Mary Scheer – Suzie

Mister Smith – Himself

Bernadette Peters – The HfH Receptionist

Ruth Buzzi – Michelle Sandoval

Hugh Laurie – Doctor Jones

Julie Kavner – The Hospital Receptionist

Grant Hoover – Arnie

Susan Blu – Esther

Dan Gilvezan – Kurt

Rick Fitts – Martin Johanssen

Shari Belafonte – Mrs. Johanssen

George Takei – Kyo Heyerdahl

Jean Smart – Reba Heyerdahl

Ludwika Paleta – Ingrid

Loreto Peralta – Hortensia

Eugenio Derbez – Jorge

Israel Contreras – The Excited Native

Joaquín Rendón – The Chief

Dalia Hernández – The Chief’s wife

Antoinette Stella – Stella

and

Carlos Alazraqui – Eduardo

 

 

Medical consultant – Doctor José Ramiro Acosta Pérez, Ph.D.

 

 

Special thanks:

 

Craig Bartlett

Michelle Lamoreaux

Joseph Purdy

Laura Sreebny

Justin Charlebois

Aulex.org

 

 

Extra special thanks:

 

DeepVoice ‘06

Inudaughter Returns

Lord Malachite

José Ramiro Acosta Pérez

 

Thanks for being my beta readers, and for all the ideas.

 

 

Incredibly special thanks to the tenth power:

 

Lord Malachite, who, through thick and thin, did not give up and managed to edit this story.

 

 

¡Zacatepóngolas!

 

Until next time, remember:

 

I

 

AM

 

THE

 

J.A.M. (a.k.a. Numbuh _i_ : “Just because I’m imaginary doesn’t mean I don’t exist”)

 

Good evening.

 

[WARP!!!]


End file.
